Writer(s) – J. D. Hopkins; J. M. Hopkins
Producer – Wonya Love

Lyrics

[Verse 1: BledJon]
I am fresh man. Seen your team you less than.
Question your seams threads and vest.
Invest in your dreams before the test.
The lesson is now found in session.
Less than: like the left side of the arrow
With the missing line; you misaligned, but it ain’t fair though!
Featherweight: like sparrow or Alexis Arguello.
You flip birds, I flip words. Mister, I am sparrow:
The military missile in the midst of all this yapping.
You sick, you the germ, you ain’t fixing it with clappin.
Ripping what I’m rapping. Sword through words of plastic.
The emcee you can’t hammer can’t touch me you ain’t clapping!
ASL applause shaking hands for truce;
Get bread and you get cheese there’s always beef and that’s the truth.
Proof is in the pudding when saying “he’s just a friend”.
Can’t get mad at me she’s trying to leave. You should let her man.

[Chrorus]
You’re stuck on JV, it ain’t hard to see
I’m tough with these letters man, I’m varsity
I’m taking the belt, they gonna give me the ring
Champ of these letters man, you know what I mean
They stuck on JV, it ain’t hard to see
I’m tough with these letters man, I’m varsity
I’m taking the belt, they gonna give me the ring
In 1… 2... 3… COME ON!!!

[Verse 2: Demo]
I’ve seen your style and I wasn’t impressed
And when I sing more wild, I’mma come from the chest
See I’m the biggest terror for a backpack rapper
You chuckle think you a letter man, I’ll laugh back at you
Big man on campus; the veteran, the letter man
You can call me a guillotine; on a track I’m beheading them.
Ain’t saying I’m a better man, but check the track record.
The game is on, running the clock to the last second.
Oh, so you fact checking? Or is you trendy?
My rap weapon, slap anybody pretending.
I’m cutting class, already know the material.
Ethereal, imperial, rhythm coming out your stereo yo
Give me the ring, give me the crown, give me the trophy.
Play in the trunk and your car might go bang Stokely.
No class clown, but ask round I’m popular.
I’ll teach you how I do it, rap phantom of the opera.

[Chorus]
You’re stuck on JV, it ain’t hard to see
We’re tough with these letters man, we’re varsity
We’re taking the belt, they gonna give us the ring
Champ of these letters man, you know what I mean
You’re stuck on JV, it ain’t hard to see
We’re tough with these letters man, we’re varsity
We’re taking the belt, they gonna give us the ring
In 1… 2... 3… COME ON!!!

[Verse 3: BledJon]
You soft, more than tempur pedic pillow.
In June, you’re pressured to smoke a willow?
Smith and wasn’t even armed. Are you for real though?
Back up with your back up you armadillo.
Will he turn hard? Will his temper be enraged?
Standing too close is why I’m spitting on your face.
Phasing out your style like an 88 fade.
Quit recess to show the kid that I don’t play.
No games over here bruh! Ain’t a Parker Brother.
Can walk past Park Place when I’m bored and get my grub up.
I’m hungry, hungry like a hippo in the jungle
Booking till I’m blue squeezing out my lungs.
You slipping and you sliding; he shoots, but I don’t run.
No gun, I mean chutes. I got the ladder. What you want?
I’m on another level with these letters. Understand me?
My wordplay over stands, I’m bananas in my jammies.