text: Nah, no, nah, nah, fuck that. Niggas think cause you fucking made Chum and got all personal that niggas wont go back to that old fucking 2010 shit about talking bout fucking everything-all. No, fuck that, nigga, I got you. Fuck that
  Grab mittens, who have to spit blizzardous
  Actually, flick cigarette ash at bitch niggas
  Harassment, eight nickels of hash, delay quick, and then
  Dash to Saint Nicholas pad to taste venison
  Still in the business of smacking up little rappers with
  Racquets you play tennis with, hated for bank lifting and
  Spraying then hide away in the shade of his maimed innocence
  Suitcase scented with haze and filetted sentences
  Advanced apathy, smashing the man cameras up
  Tan khakis, an antagonist Dan-dappered up
  Ha, vagabond, had it since a Padawan
  Rapping hot as fucking cattle brands wearing flannel thongs
  Grab a bong, mama and some food, beer, tag along
  Get a nice spanking, uh, new Sears catalog
  Send them nettled critics to the bezel stop, dead and wrong
  Get em higher than the pitch of metal tea-kettle songs
  Four deep in a Rover cannon
  Riding dirty through a Saugus canyon, niggas know that its the
  G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G, G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G
  50k for the last check
  But the Dollar Menu still be on deck, nigga its the mothafuckin
  G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G, G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G
  Yeah, the misadventures of a shit-talker
  Pissed as Rick Rosss fifth sip off his sixth lager
  Known to sit and wash the sins off at the pitch alter
  Hat never backwards like the print off legit manga
  Get it? Like a blue pill, make ya stick longer
  Or a swift fist off your chin from his wrist-launcher
  Chick, chronic thrift shopper, thick like the Knicks roster
  Stormed off and came straight back like pigs posture
  Pen? Naw, probably written with some used syringes
  From out the rubbish bin at your local loony clinic
  Watching movies in a room full of goons he rented
  On the hunt for clues, more food, and some floozy women
  Bruising gimmicks with the broom he usually use for Quidditch
  Gooey writtens, scoot em to a ditch, chewed and booty-scented
  Too pretentious, do pretend like he could lose with spitting
  Steaming tubes of poop and twisted doobies full of euphemisms
  Stupid, thought it up, jot it quick 
  Thaw it out, toss it right back like a vodka fifth
  Spot him on a rocket swapping dollars in for pocket lint
  Then lob a wad of chicken at a copper on some Flocka shit
  Posing nigga try to disrespect
  Get a fucking thunder to his neck, shout out to Nak
  Cause its the G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G, G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G
  Looking bummy, posted on the block, like I aint make
  A quarter million off of socks, nigga
  Cause its the G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G, G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G
  Bitch niggas
  Wolf Gang 
  Golf Wang, nigga 
  Trashwang, Loiter Squad
  Yeah 
  Stay off the block, niggas
  You not welcome 
  Circa ’08, bitch! Yeah