[Intro: Tech N9ne]
Yeah! Okay, I lay low
Stay out the way, they out to spray up and take dough
But we got to play, get out today when I got the taste for
Anywhere, [?], tacos, chips and queso
Hopped in the whip and let the bass go
(Casalini)
(N9ne)
[Verse 1: Tech N9ne]
Uh, fame brings many things, even the fiends
They all locked on your green and try to scheme
But they know me as king, keep it up [?]
So when I'm up on the scene, I'll see the gleam, uh
Me and my only son ridin' (Ridin')
On our turf we ain't hidin' (Hidin')
AMG, we hot sidin', slidin', but no slippin' like Biden (Nah, what?)
Ain't no opps, ain't no collidin' (Nope)
Unless of course a bitch vibin', [?] off some good Psilocibin (Yeah)
She really like my style though (Yes)
Respect the fact I ain't shallow (Nah)
Yeah, she made my pal grow, but I didn't shoot her up, Lee Malvo (Brrt)
Hit and run, she Groucho, like we in church, she shout, bro
Mama made us to respond to Jesus, not Amadeus, Falco (Chyeah!)
Pray for everybody that's hateful
Gon skate with that stone face when I know inside he straight cake dough
Why you be givin' a fake show like you tough but really Ms. Rachel
Brace yourself, your heart gon need help when I let the bass (Go!)
[Chorus: Lex Bratcher & Tech N9ne]
Ooh, yeah
Let it bang
Bang
Yeah
Ooh, yeah
Let it bang
Bang
Yeah
[Verse 2: Y8$]
808 bang (Bang), it's blowin' up, turnin' to flames (Flames)
They feelin' the speakers (Speakers), fuckin' 'em up, right out they brains (Brains)
That kick be kickin' like Liu Kang, hi-hat be rippin' your veins
The clap be clappin' that ass in them guts, I got 'em goin' insane (Yeah)
Cruisin' round with Pops in that matte black Benz
Tuned up high real loud and you can hear it all in my scat pack
Really out here stuntin'
Bitch we burn ends like Jack Stack's
Come on with that bass
So much wind it'll blow your cap back (Whoosh)
Standin' tall with a trophy on high heat
Equals no sleep, increase more cheese
Eliminating the evil that tries me
I rock steady (Ayy)
I heard the whispers but I'm ready
A paper victor confetti
Show a Duggie Fresh like veggies
King's son like Simba, I ain't lyin'
I grew up with Granate[?] pride, that 4 block
Comin' from the north side
When it come to Yates, I am the god
Guarantee this murderous beat will have your ass chopped up into [?], my *****
[Chorus: Y8$, Lex Bratcher, & Tech N9ne]
(My *****) Ooh
(My *****) Yeah
(My *****)
Let it bang
Bang
Yeah
Ooh, yeah
Let it bang
Bang
Yeah
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