This is a song about "Barbecue ribs"

Now they give a fuck about usand if i choose to ride

I love a barbecue with my homies, you trip i'll let it slide,

I brittle your ribs, you the type of guy that fiddles with kids

And we don't fucking make horrorcore, you fucking idiots

Just another product of this matrix

And grip whips to switch hits to each ribs

I stack chips, crack ribs, and in fact, i stack mad mack clips

Needed coke, needed dope, yea, i gave her a fix

Soon as para finite will paralyze her existence

Middle finger up ready to rip out all ya ribs

I.e. i get sick, white tee, i be kicks

You were just found with eight bullets in your left ribs

Scramble like randall if john randle was trynna get him

I take hunan i take sezchuan chefs barbecue it's nothin

Barbecue meals laughing having a blasttill you met a roommate it was our doomsday

They got you trapped, you're better off gettin shot upi'm convinced self-defense is the way