Respect the mustache, my people cash and puff the cut grass Of spite, known to let a nut fly, right in your slut Ring of full I step inside fishing to cut glass Tongue poll shaking pillars, you're like a a sizzler I'm a lunch with no boo dip with the whole crew 'Cause false moves get your whole face smothered soul food Right by the waist I got the Pro Tool, it's logic Produce this hard dick in seconds, make bitch massage it You're like a forty dollar holler from Gushing to scamma motherfucker's ain't promised Badges of honor on the chest the got wounds in it Got inmates assholes that got balloons in it Versace jeans 98 the scent of me Now the scent of me be primarily the of tree Fucking feedback, play me feed I shoot you, shorty take the charge, Steve Nash
Don't interrupt me I'll silly putty you for the Red sauce, calamari you the feeling's funny I'm twenties killing forties by the oz My brain is scattered I been swallowing OCs Beantown to Queens, you hear the and screams Where they pat your jeans, take your money and your trees The rocker devouring vodka shrimp and lobster Pop you and turn you pasta papa look in my cara The flow's furious, so cold killers Who rip shit, spit sick, and stole Hit em with lead and then men'll run in your house Clear it out, steal in it but the couch Brady and Action Sanchez Stacks of bread, clap and peel wigs The type of I get when I write a rhyme Is the blood-infested killing of all time I'm a