Rock N Roll Is Dead

(You think you know me) Big Daddy Hoffa coming to you here with a Kimber Team Match II .45, 1911 This baby oughta be nice, right there (ooh) Cocked, locked and ready to rock (oh, uh) One, two High key, uh Gone with the sauce Got the .45 tucked in the bag Hit 'em with the hawk Nah, fuck it dawg, whip 'em wit the strap I've been on the fuckin' road (uh) I just ended rock and roll (uh) We've been running up the score (uh) Turnt your house into a home (yeah) Uh, I don't fucking roam All I do is count the cash Bitch I'm coming in your house Let's get freaky with the strap (nasty!) We don't fuck with alt-right Y'all ain't never been a threat (right) If y'all come to Baltimore We gon' stick 'em for their racks (nigga) We gon' beat them crackers dead (yeah) We gon' fuck up on they wi- (w-wife) Take 'em for a ride, more hits, more life Tight grip on the chopper, that kickback light Put hands on a blogger, make him beg for his life Gone with the sauce Got the .45 tucked in the bag Hit 'em with the hawk Nah, fuck it dawg, whip 'em wit the strap I've been on the fucking road I just ended rock 'n' roll We've been running up the score (hoo) I say that pussy's off the Richter No shit, uh, I fuck that bitch I fuck your babysitter, I hit her I took her to a show, man, what's the issue (blat) I split her, this groovy nigga bangin' on your sister (nah) No kicker, I can't breathe How many cars does it take To make this shit an easy race? (Pussy pop), uh how many cars does it take to make this fucking pain go away? Truth Ooh Ooh, early This shit poppin', comin' out the I'm out of options I'm out of options