Olathe

[Verse 1: T.F]

Garlic butter on the crab legs got 'em sentimental

Heavy tinted windows doin' pirouettes with a demon in it

Had an oriental, had to get her on the instrumental

She had to hit the track, first trap ain't no looking back

Masked up like I'm cooking meth, I'm like Iron Man back in '96

And when it comes to beef I'm with it every season, I'm the Iron Chef

I was 15, I seen a marble floor inside a Pyrex

Whatchu know about a couple Snapple bottles for the sherm sticks?

Drive-bys out of Thunderbirds, did it acapellas, niggas know the word

Niggas know the vibe, you niggas nerds, you don't know the curb

Got a bad bitch and she play the 'burbs

And she be dipped out, had to ask if she be selling gurb, word to 2 Eleven

MAC-11 match the black Amiris, spiral bullets made him backpedal

Turned his Cadillac into roadkill, cause his trunk had a couple racks in it

LordMobb we the front runners, made men, mad bitches

This for the niggas hatin', ya'll niggas pussy: mad bitches

Nine milly made her spine tingle, fine china bring the lines with it

Quarter piece I let the dimes hit it, now they layin' up, like they Rod Strickland

Ain't no business like mob business, waking up to a cup of Folgers and brand new set of side bitches