Im rollin up a doobie in my fake phantom.
Got two fake chains, I cant pay the ransom.
Birds on my shoulder call me Capitan Hook.
Birds on the table with the cookin book.

Bakin soda on my shirt with the missin shoes.
Lucky Charmes, horse shoes, flexin with my crew.
What it do, im monolithic out swangin.
Candy paint changin, and sexin Sarah Palin.

Im known on my block as “Mr Is He Back?”
Or “Mr Is He Whack?”, naw son, im packin racks.
Backpack full of lyrics and some sticky trees.
RAP GAME MR T, homie don’t fuck with me.

Im well known for my medication, pill bottle poppin.
Hook it up, it aint no problem, dope beats I be jockin.
Bitches floppin, but that aint my problem
Homie beef’d with me, but you know I aint shot ‘em

[Hook: Kreayshawn]

Drug dealer music, memory mnemonic
I’m ill as fuck, so call me the plague bubonic
Yeah, I’m an alcoholic. I dropped out of college.
Bring the war to your zone, Napoleonic

Embryonic, my name stil in its younge days.
Hydroponic chronic I got it, go blaze.
This ain’t a phase, opinions getting critical.
They egotistical, and straight up perdictable.

Inadmissible, you know I don’t play that shit.
Im larger than life. Goliath, biblical.
Serial killer of instrumentals plentiful.
Understand these claims are more than hypothetical.

Hypothalamus, brain structure off the chain.
Im insane with the pain I bring to the game.
Untamed, im I beast in my habitat.
Attack with no warning, swangin like an acrobat.

[Hook: Kreayshawn]