Ayy, Backwood filled with that— ah, fire

Y'all boys smoking on— shh, quiet

Diamonds, they singing like they in a choir

Bumping new BONES, this taste is acquired

Ninety percent of the game is lies

So staging the lyrics, they didn't even write

Get on their knees for suits and ties

Then they complain 'bout the paper they signed

Pussy-ass bitch, time to man the fuck up

They could dodge you, but can they duck us?

Two fingers crossed, hopin' that they luck up

PGA money, I'll stick to the putt-putt

I get so cashed, I look in the mirror like, "Pleasure to meet you" (Pleasure to meet you)

If I had a genie, all three of my wishes would be not to meet you (Be not to meet you)

They say they shooting like Sammy the Squid, but that don't put fear in me (No, no)

'Cause I got the rocket and I got the power like wiggity, wiggity (Yes, yes)

You would turn into Chris Benoit if you saw how your wife looked at me (Ooh)

I don't got nothing to follow that up, that's terrible (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Bitch, tell me something I don't know

My razor, it cut 'em in slow-mo

Dump 'em and gut 'em, I cut 'em like butter, my battery full, I'ma overload

Pressing the flash like a photo

Put you on a shirt like a logo

Quietly shaking, he soft and I'll take him and send that bitch ass where the ghosts go

Lay down, lay down, go to bed, don't say a thing

Lay down, lay down, go to bed, don't say a thing