[Verse 1: Labba]
Uhh – who test these fat niggas?
I beat ya bitch with a bat, nigga
Fuck ya'll, the AK to ya liver
Motherfucker sayin' they gon' pray
And they pray for my downfall
Rob a rapper for his Audemar
He fuckin' ran like the Autobahn
Pussy nigga, this is Crookton
You just muthafuckin' know – if you come touch mine
See the coroner line
The lastest to fucking pound pavements
Phantom engraved, need the hoody for the AC
Laser cut key shit
These are the evils, the liquid diesel – call it Pimp C'page
UGK forever, tougher than leather
Nobody does it better, I'm sonnin' 'em
They against me like abortion
Fuck ya'll haters, fuck those rockin' gators
[Verse 2: Action Bronson]
Good coke, cut cold cuts
There she blows, the bottom of my whole nuts
Now every table set and laced up with the gold crust
Stuff some drugs in the middle of the ho's butt
'Cause we wildin' off the boat – Albanians cannibals Queens County
Stick you for your rings, only sing for a king's bounty
'Cause if you wanted to cop it, I feed them brownies
Oakleys be the optics, eat tapas and drink Cab'by
Baby veal neck stew, wildin' like Winona Ryder
Face in magazines, divas dug Al down at the slut house
Enter her butt mouth breakin' an bust down
Open my eyes, inhale, and blow the drugs out
80's Bush smoke, blue Mercedes kush
Ass fat, waist small like an Asian foot
Kick shit Miroslav Klose, I drink piss of the purified cobra
[Verse 3: Ike Eyes]
Stock in the block skyrocketed through the roof
Core of the Rotten Apple eating at the roots
Solo acts and duos, I eat up your whole group
Backpack trapper, duece fever in the boot
My ol' head taught me all the tricks to the drug trade
Don't make the same mistakes that love made
Your best friend's a dollar in your pockets
And ya stash ain't right if you can fit it in your wallet
Hank Moody of rappin', fat bitch stank booty clappin'
Back to the live action
Break night, take flight, pipe smokers, rail rippers
Hungry hounds on the trail, tail sniffers
It was all love 'til the drugs blurred my thinking
Lap full of work in the backseat of a Lincoln
Waitin' at the coast for the loads to wash ashore
This ain't enough, I'm gonna need more 1,000 pounds
[Outro: scratches by PF Cuttin']
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