[Verse 1: Wrekonize]
Wrapped in XLR cables
Up from my whiskers, down to my fuckin' kicks
Wreck-O was echoed in Gordon Geckos, you suckin' dick
Nobody be askin' me for secrets, I ain't chuckin' tips
I'd rather be bumpin' hips on that ratchet with muffin tits
Tore up the limits from Britain visions would rock their lives
Inside a prison where giddy bitches don't jock the rhyme
Born with precision and rhythm spittin' could swat a fly
For them to just kick a single shillings from Spotify
Bye, Bye killers, on a high five business
Gonna ride by the sickest in your high ride to the hitlist
If we ain't spoke in ages then miss me with broken favors
You Miley Cyrus to majors, you twerkin' on swollen razors (run now)
Don't make me come to dinner, nail your tongue down
And have you plead your case to us in Strangeland at sundown
Be careful of the biz cause everything has got a price attached
Wake up with a horse head in your bed and next your life is snatched
[Verse 2: Bernz]
Tank full of petrol, bank full of pesos
Pool on my tour bus, bonus on a payroll
Feel like I be killin' it, famous on the internet
Really I'm just wingin' it, cookin' shit on my kitchenette
Life so good right now, I need to celebrate!
Bout to sell a stadium out and turn it into rave!
Look at how the industry norm has started lookin' Strange
All my brothers riding the storm while they just ride the wave
Caviar wishes, bitches for my bitches
Black shades and hoodies and spots and white linens
Feel like Sam Kinison, preachin' to the citizens
Screamin' at the saints, "You ain't ever gonna get rid of us!"
Guessin' I just cleaned my plate so now I'm gettin' cake
Speedin' down the interstate, yellin' "Get out the fuckin' way"
We plant flags in the ground because we here to stand
I bring my whole hood out and have my own parade
[Verse 3: Kutt Calhoun]
(Black Gold!)
I purposely wrote this verse just to murder, dismember, defecate
Disassemble the limbs of a nigga who try and separate
Artistry from nonfiction, I'm sent with a conviction
To sentence you pawns givin' opinions on my addiction
"There he goes, speakin' bout how he merk a beat"
"Smellin' himself, why else would he flaunt about it so verbally?"
Dance around me like I was a paraplegic
In a do-si-do competition, lookin' pissed like I never heard of feet
"Yadda, yadda", a whole lotta yappin' about my rappin'
When I'm the captain of crunchin' you niggas' milky dreams
I'm the comparison of Pac face staring in your face
Mock razor blades, Kutt leave you crispy clean
Don't ask Tech, ask me if it's questions
Guarantee that he tell you that I'm the best and I'm destined
To find a snake and a bat, helpin' Kansas City's progression
Hopin' I hurt the feelings of whoever second guessed it cause
Everybody talkin', I'mma make you niggas hear me
Mind control flow, now, listen till your ears bleed
[Verse 4: UBI]
Spit it sicker than these sycophants, keep your dick up in your pants
You were blunted on the block, me, I had some different plans
I'm trying to get to France, sniffing grams, hit a branch
Independent Powerhouse, vibin' out, wit' the fam
Waking up in different cities every night, hittin' grants
Stay prepared for this, I'm bearing witness to the sin of man
Stripper dance with cinnamon, clubbin' with my gentlemen
Drink away the night's events, nothing worth remembering
Squad'll run up in this bitch, mobbin' like some immigrants
Jack you for your paper stack, rob you of your innocence
Taping off the scene of crimes, swabbing for my fingerprints
Thought about my life, you thought the same and couldn't think of shit
Ha! This type of fire don't extinguish
Now write about some bigger shit, you striking out, swing and miss
Ring around the Rosie, homie, pocket full of pain
Keep a lock up on my lane and triple optic in my brain, look
Ringing
UBI: “Yeah, what up?"
N9ne: "Ubi?"
UBI: "What’s going on man?"
N9ne: "Hold on… Travis is calling me, hold up."
N9ne: "What up, Trav?"
Travis: "What up man, I’m outside right now."
N9ne: "Alright, here I come."
Travis: "Alright."
N9ne: "Peace. Ubi! You got the bitches number from… So and so?"
Ubi: "From what? What, which bitch?"
N9ne: "That redheaded bitch from… dadadadada."
Ubi: "Oh, yeah yeah yeah. Want me to text it to you?"
N9ne: "Yeah text it to me right now. Love."
Ubi: "Aight peace.”
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