| My eyes are bloodshot |
| Like the Mishka logo |
| Smokin dope riding solo watching for the po-po |
| Smoke rolls out my mouth eyes hella low tho |
| Turn the speakers up a little more |
| Sortahuman is Schema, hoe |
| I’m spinning round like I’m crash |
| Fuck with me and that’s yo' ass |
| I’m with a clique and they will blast |
| Right up on yo' funky ass |
| Suicidal is from the D |
| Yeah that Wicca shit |
| Sisqo came down on the track with the Schema bitch |
| Runnin round with the Glock |
| Finna let that shit bust |
| Fuckin with the Schema we leaving bitch ass niggas in dust |
| Learn my motherfuckin' name |
| Turn em to a ghost mane |
| Sortahuman with the pen |
| And I’m loco and I’m insane |
| I cruise like Tom |
| With the bomb in my knapsack |
| Fuck the three-eighty I’m outta the cut with the fat mac |
| I bust like a nine and blast off like a rocket |
| A nine in my holster with a clip in my pocket |
| Hoes wanna be down kinda like Brandy |
| I sip on the Brandy and my rubbers come in handy |
| cause my mission is kamikaze |
| Its WooF and niggas know they can’t fuck with Schemapossa |
| Don’t give no fuck I’ll spark it up inside a church bitch |
| We get em bucking like a blunt you getting burnt bitch |
| Yeah I’m the shit, I’m the shit, I’m the shit. ho |
| Can catch me cooking I ain’t whipping I wrap that bitch. ho |
| Lit phone, twerking make her work and flick my wrist slow |
| They like yo' bitch and nympho and I’m like which ho |
| I’m in the club mouth shining like some tin foil |
| A all black pink trim, and now my |
| Coming to kill |
| Killin at will |
| Spitting so sick and it’s leaving you chills |
| Creepin up in the darkness with a nine mill and that gold grill |
| Killa C straight bringing that heat |
| I’m like Freddy Kruger I’m creeping in yo' sleep |
| Schema the posse we be so unique |
| And we running the streets without no defeat |
| Ridin slab in that low low |
| Sippin syrup in slow-mo |
| Oh no, I hit a nigga with the nine mill' and the po-po |
| And speed off with no trace |
| A dead body with no face |
| The next day I beat trial |
| Then leave court with a closed case |
| Bitch |
| Aye real talk man |
| Shouts out to all the motherfuckin' fans that downloaded this album |
| You know what I’m saying |
| Shouts out to all the Schema fans |
| I do this shit for y’all |
| Shouts out to JGRXXN |
| Shouts out G*59 |
| Know what I’m saying |
| Everybody else who contributed to this album |
| We running the underground |
| Bitch better duck |
| Splatter yo' brains |
| All over the interstate |
| But I won’t lose no sleep tonight |
| Not even a minute I’m dreaming and wondering how the fuck I’m still alive |
| Losin myself in the pages of graphic depiction of shit that don’t exist |
| You thinking I’m outta my mind |
| But it keeps me alive at a fucked up time like this |
| I load my .22 and point it straight up at my dome |
| Mothafuckas thought Caligula was flexing but you got it wrong |
| I’m looking down the barrel of my own shit |
| Waiting for God to show me if he really exist |