I be gettin' faded, discombobulated, never say I made it 'til I'm pissin' off the top.
OC players, fly rhyme-sayers, haters cant phase us 'cause its true hip hop.
MC-in' is the place for me to be in, and nut-swingin' is the way that I be G-in'.
Never lean into an old for a lyrical hold, keep my shit bold, more rhymes I stole.
Fuck the role when I stroll man I dodge 5-0, I dip-da, fuck and robbed, and rocked the shows.
And the hoe skip the blow, give me that 40-Oh, I like a lady down to ride like a rodeo.
You see anarchy are fliest like the hemp on a hippie,
cast out like a monarch 'cause my heads a little drippy,
my buds I like 'em sticky, so pack another rip D,
high as the plains we're stoned the Mississippi.
Punk rock mental, my thoughts are hoarse, hip hop freestyle free dumb of course.
My old girl Mary better known as a schwag-hag,
every other night she had me out buying dimebags.
A dime to a 20 to a 40 to an 1/8!
I switched the homegrown, now I puff on Bobby B's you all.
Check your traits, you perpetrate I can't relate.
Your mental mind state is far too overrate.
You can't skate, don't sit and debate, you need to skip the state and Jesus Christ to clean the slate.
I think its fake, I ain't done yet so wait.
Your philosophies bellin' under weight, they're out of date.
One more thing then we're straight, put the fake to sleep and then I'll catch you at the wake, and then we'll bake and once again try to relate.
Hope believe will win, you'll lose the hate.
Caps are closed, I think we're up to date, pick up your junk, get a grip, checkmate!