Intro:]
How many?… nah fucck it you don’t have to say anything *Talking to a body* *Gunshots*
[Chorus:] [X2]
Last time I hit my niggga Lynch; he was eating on a finger
I promised yall nigggas im no regular singer
I’ll put any one of you rappers through the ringer
You broke boi smoking them roaches down to the stinger
You gonna need to dry clean them close at the cleaner
You send all my whips
You know that shit better than yo favorite rap
Got all the bittches singing my songs on snap (Awe, yeah!)
[Verse:]
I’m chopping’ em up til I get a new one
You didn’t know I’ll chop that body up Congruent
That means many pieces wit yo dumb asss
I just brought the burner to the stove
Wit yo dusty asss
Yo momma told you now that grass
Do some chores around yo house
You got mad then she kicked yo asss out
Then you came back to Washington
With a open mouth
I promise you I’ll never forget that weed
That went missing out our ounce
You lucky she saved yo asss boy
I was bout to pounce (Yeah!)