[Verse 1: Jarren Benton] Yeah Jarren Benton What's up y'all, how the fuck y'all feeling? Yeah, I hope I don't offend nobody with this shit man Check it out Yeah
I used to be broke as fuck, whipping a Honda Accord with 2 spinners Dick stayed between your bitch's dress, no Bruce Jenner Igniting crack pipes with flames from butane Bitches used to play me to the left, said I was 'too strange' Now I'm getting head from Cali hoes and smoking new strains Ran a couple trains on foreign bitches out in Ukraine Trying to be an honorary member of Wu-Tang But I'm throwed off like Uday and Qusay Hussein Fuck up your future I'll shoot the Ruger through your Uber I sift through cow manure for shrooms, out his medulla I'll sit in the car get head while I listen to Gwar I'll punch through your fucking chest and kick my leg through your heart The illest lyricist, smack a rapper for spitting gibberish Hopsin never take me in public cause I'm too niggerish Ay, fuck the police with Eric Garner's dead dick I need meds quick, snapping necks like breadsticks These new rappers a bunch of faggots and fuck boys Ay, I bet you these niggas fuck boys Fake thugs, Gustos, CB4 I talked to 'Pac with a Ouija board, Hail Mary Ay tell that bitch to shut the fuck up when the song play Dyslexic; throw up gang signs the wrong way And drugs got me having 'out of body's I kill a rapper, drop the corpse off in Abu Dhabi I'm doing donuts on a Kawasaki I'm with your bitch sipping sour sake [wtf happened here?] Ay nigga try me I kill you and fucking hide the body I date old white bitches that do mal-Pilates Uh, Tech'll blow you to Reese's Pieces Put you on a Stairway to Heaven and have you meeting Jesus Funk Volume the squad, salute to my nigga, getting cake Catch a bitch nigga and snuff him like Diddy did Drake Benton! We in this bitch!
[Verse 2: CyHi Da Prynce] Yuh... LA y'all ready?! Okay Huh I see you nigga's green, night goggles I'm a Activis, I belong in a Sprite bottle I write novels, the last testament Thou said to Prynce, "you won't find these verses in Christ's Bible" My pistol ain't got no body like a white model I don't listen to rap nigga cause I like gospel I grew up with some Night Riders; David Hassellhoff Who won't stop rapping white; Asher Roth Involved with albatross at the Travel Lodge Niggas try to sabotage a nigga catalogue You sheep ain't herd; my wolves will knock the cattle off Leave your whole neighborhood wet; it's raining cats and dogs The rest of the survivors to the casa On tour with nothing but riders on my rider Whoever knew Duna was the driver of that Sonata That I would have so much truth inside my saliva Niggas throwing shade in my face, just like this visor So I got some partners that're killers so I advise ya Not to fuck with young Elijah, cause my guys'll Throw the body in the trunk and lake 'em like As-salamu Huh, we the saviors of our genre Huh, to bring the youth to the truth, is our honor From youngsters out in Ghana reliving Hotel Rwanda I can't sleep cause there's kids with nowhere to slumber We should give Nobels to mommas and women who held us under I know my momma worry, from my past of life's crimes I still use a notepad when I'm writing my rhymes Cause literally, I put my life on the line I'm out this bitch
[Verse 3: Joell Ortiz] Team Backpack, What's up?! Yaowa I wrote this last night in my bed Cause they've been sleeping on me people said Funny cause I could do this standing on my head I can't stand y'all like 2 bad prosthetic legs Something like an OG, just a newer version of the old me Hungrier than I was back in '03 Got a little change, but I ain't changed, niggas know me But the Rollie do shine while I'm holding up an O.E This thing here locked, you would think Joell a Rasta These niggas queer, they career's on a teleprompter Bunch of gimmicks, motherfuckers couldn't tell a chopper From a fifth, cause when I said that, they thought helicopter I'm tired of looking left and right. We made a left, right? And now I feel like everything that's left ain't right If you a up and coming rapper, here's the best advice Chill out, I'm running the show without a extra mic I'm telling you God spoke to me He said "little man, listen closely, I gave you most of me Therefore you're way more than man's supposed to be Hopefully you reach supreme Yaowa" I said, "hopefully!" Every track is hard I'll single-handedly crack your squad in half for having average bars What's a battle scar? I'm unscathed, I should smash guitars On your bum waves, or tangle your dumb braids for how trash you are Niggas probably like, "Ortiz spazzing" it's just me rapping In a rush, I got a mean bad one waiting on me in the meat packing I'm bringing keys to the dream In case I'm the key to her dreams and she need me packing I been listening to the streets yapping Putting Gucci stickers on my laptop, you know, G-Macking See skill is something you will never see me lacking That's a selfie in church clothes, picture me slacking I tried to tell y'all dumbasses In '07 to make these niggas step on they white sunglasses Now we turning to Smurf Village, y'all let it But Gargamel's been doing barbell presses I'll stomp your little movement, crush your little cave Turn your wave into a ripple in a puddle near your grave I know the real you, the real you, so behave Without the lies and cameras you don't want that action backstage I'm on my real new york shit, four-fifth careful where you walk shit Cause you could turn chalk next to dog shit Where I'm from we're awkward, look Khalid, a coffin Spitting up your organs on your way to being corpses Every other day I stood around some shit that'd make you nauseous Buck 50, son cheek falling while he talking Dead woman walking, wish I saw the class portrait Shorty used to be bad that dope made her a monster Y'all niggas know, y'all niggas whack rap I put this cypher in my knapsack, nigga this Team BackpackTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.