Count Me Out

Zero chill, cold like December's spleen,

One chance, one mic, I’m the guillotine,

Two-faced snakes slither through the scene,

Triple up the digits, got a money machine.

Four fingers raised, middle one in the sky,

Five seconds flat, watch me kiss ‘em goodbye,

Six feet deep for the fake and the sly,

Seven deadly sins, but I’m too fly to die.

Count me in, count me out, who the f*** you talkin' 'bout?

One to ten, I run the route, numbers up, no goddamn doubt.

Count me in, count me out, stack the f***in' paper mount.

Zero fears, I scream and shout, numbers rule, I’m paramount.

Eight bars hit like a punch to the spleen,

Nine lives, but I’m sharper than a guillotine,

Ten toes down, stompin’ through the routine,

Eleven outta ten when I’m spittin' it clean.

Twelve rounds in the ring, still undefeated,

Thirteen schemes, my flow stay repeated,

Fourteen-karat verses, bars get heated,

Fifteen minutes? Nah, I’m forever seated.

Sixteen shots in the clip, let it spray,

Seventeen haters all fallin’ away,

Eighteen karats on my wrist, gold sway,

Nineteen moves ahead, I’m here to stay.