| Who could take a single buck, an empty cup, a stroke of luck | 
| Fuck around and reconstruct it up to a million bucks | 
| In God we trust, every part of us is marvelous | 
| You Krusty Krab squad, ya’ll will rust, ya’ll ain’t hard enough | 
| Demolition expert, I exert through your network while the TEC squirt jerk | 
| There’s holes inside your sweatshirt | 
| Through your apparel, through your blood, through your bone marrow | 
| Precise with this mic device, slice your pie like Sbarros | 
| You falling nigga, and you can’t get up | 
| You been stalling motherfucker now your ass is stuck | 
| Brooklyn, Brownsville, baby stay with the Killer Hill crazy | 
| Ankle strap above the boot, it conceals my three eighty | 
| Are you running for this money money, hunting eggs like easter bunny | 
| Geeks trying to beast upon me, freak I will eat a zombie | 
| Calm and double while you jumping through these hurdles, silly rabbit | 
| The race is always won by the turtle, mental machinery | 
| Purple herbal mixed with that greenery | 
| I don’t write songs, grasshopper, I write sceneries | 
| Everything ain’t what it seems to be, what it means to you it don’t mean to me | 
| Bzzzz, a sting from the killer bees | 
| In God I trust, now I don’t give no fucks | 
| (Dropping them them them, motherfucking Beez) | 
| Beez on 'em | 
| Stings bitch | 
| Bzzzz… BzzzzZZZzzz | 
| I pass any test of litmus, I workout at 24 fitness | 
| On the weekends, I sip Belvedere with that citrus | 
| My dogs is vicious, exotic | 
| Exotic nympho whore for the mistress | 
| Life is good, I live every day like it’s Christmas | 
| Happy New Year, I does what the fuck I wanna do here | 
| I splash that Gucci shit from the shirt to the shoewear | 
| Trust the rings out, wife beater tee with the wings out | 
| Long dick stamina, I fuck a bird til she sings out | 
| La la la la, Bobby could convert Lady Gaga | 
| Back to heterosexual, I’m classy like Impala | 
| Plus I’m federal, when it comes to making dollas | 
| Like Jigga nigga man, if you hear me then holla | 
| Gold rings like the Green Lantern | 
| You see me in the mean phantom | 
| Pushing over there in Ohio, outside of Canton | 
| Or maybe in the grotty, rugged projects of Staten | 
| Tall redbone in my shower, she looking like Paula Patton |