I'm doing mental jumping jacks until failure, I'm like the mayor in my town (Yeah)

Without BONES, you would've never heard of Howell (No)

But motherfuck the past, I'm focused on right now

Could shut my eyes and tell you when you die, who, what, where, and how

It's the reaper's son-in-law, intentional with the fouls

Went from Th@ Kid to BONES and then burned the game down

I was busy getting my sound right, all you do is sound-bite

Respect, I'm making millions, but we know just who you sound like

I was bumping off that Richter scale, my mental, it was broke

I was picked by the reaper, bitch, this life, it wasn't chose

Bitch, it chose me, chose up

Bentley or the Rolls truck

Motherfuck a Rover

I pull up in that— pull up in that—

Yeah, yeah, yeah, black hearse, make 'em hurt

BONES throwing up that 517, that's that dirt

Nextel on me chirp, what's popping, who got a problem?

I was broke, we made it work, crowbar for the guala

I put my blunt down like, "Baby, I'll be right back"

I put my foot down like, "Yes, bitch, it's like that"

I put my blunt down like, "Baby, I'll be right back"

I put my foot down like, "Yes, bitch, it's like that"