text: Prometh flow for the slow sippers
  And if you on your paper chasing, I’ma roll with ya
  About an onion, it odors a bag of Funyuns
  Bitches packaging dozens, fuck ‘em until they malfunction
  I laugh my ass off, taking shots like a gunman
  I don’t hunt game, motherfucker, I hunt men
  Take ‘em to the back of my pick-up truck to rot them
  Kill a fuckin’ superhero, I watch the Watchmen
  I’m a super-negro, my watch the rocks in
  My Glock that’s cocked, loaded, and ready to lock in
  Who’s sending niggas to the dirt? Ostriches
  Captain holding them captive fucking hostages
  Create carnage from cartridges, eating the heart of pigs
  To murder, homicide’s a part to live with that
  Grab your Teflon, ammunition, and your gat
  Unless you wanna get shitted on like porn scat
  Oooh, you ain’t sayin’ nada
  Guns drawn, niggas scream opera
  38 snub or the chopper
  Middle finger goes to the coppers
  You better hope the Lord is your doctor
  Like, oooh, you ain’t sayin’ nada
  Guns drawn, niggas scream, opera
  38 snub or the chopper
  Middle finger goes to the coppers
  You better hope the Lord is your doctor
  Like, oooh
  Hey Hodgy, hey Tyler, don’t mind us
  (We kill ‘em all, 50 shots, fuck kindness
  In all black Versace dressed in the finest)
  We sell it all, even the drugs are designers
  Gangsta bitches, Red Monkeys for the ecstasy
  (Fuck it, take ‘em all, overdose the recipe
  Let them hoes show they true colors-) crew lovers
  Passed around like a cold 
  Two brothers, add two others just the news of it
  Make the net crash, the ultimate “Who done it?”
  (And who knew Sarah Palin with the sniff type daughter knocked up
  But she was knocking down Glen Rice)
  Been nice since the Wolf Gang was baby pups
  Add two dope boys known for taping up
  Oooh, you ain’t sayin’ nada
  Guns drawn, niggas scream opera
  38 snub or the chopper
  Middle finger goes to the coppers
  You better hope the Lord is your doctor
  Like, oooh, you ain’t sayin’ nada
  Guns drawn, niggas scream, opera
  38 snub or the chopper
  Middle finger goes to the coppers
  You better hope the Lord is your doctor
  Like, oooh
  Spit bars, this hard, teen sixteen bars
  I’m fucking the game when its vagina got my dick scarred
  Um, sure it’s ‘Preme button up floral
  Stack of money, dark shades, looking like a fucking tourist
  Or it’s the Tourettes that my fucking neck have
  I’m like a average nigga in the 20’s of the 18’s
  And I’m not even 20, dropped a classic at my 18
  A crazy motherfucker, maybe I should be my stepdad 
  The wolves finally reconcile
  At Interscope office with a bunch of fucking pedophiles
  While mouth watering, this shit is sick and fucking vile
  Trying to fuck my destiny, they couldn’t find another child