Birdman Meets Birdman

You know me, I don't need no introduction. It's Baby, the numba one stunna, I shine every summa. The one and only Birdman, I fly in any weather.

But I be hearin they some balla callin his self Birdman. That aint gon fly, playboy. Baby, Brian, B, Bubba, you can call me what you feel, but you best know that I'm the Birdman. BRRRRRR.

I know he can't outstunt me when come to these cars, believe that. Earrings be trillion cut and my grill be slugged up. Normally, beef I don't discuss. Homeboy outta line, gon get his mondayfriday head bust. But this a clear case a copyright infringement, whoadie.

This boy be hoppin out the E class Benz? This boy got the alligator seats with the head on the inside? When the light hit his ice do it twankle and glisten? I know he ain't stunt like me. I just bought me a platinum football field. He ain't got that new Mercedes, wit da bubble eyes. I got that ON DUBS. That three wheel ride with a tire in the middle? I got that ON DUBS. TVs in all my cars, whoadie.

So why dis busta be callin his self da Birdman? Lemme peep homeboy.

Oh for real? Homeboy stay fly! I aint messin with no crazy white boy who lookin like a rooster on some down South meth addict tip. Playboy welcome to come to my next parkin lot party, and get his roll on, ya heard me? YA HEARD MEEEE? BRRRRRRRR.