I miss the better days
Don’t battle a bunch of gays.
And my niggas all the same
Run out of drinks, no complain
Carl agreeing to battle? he must of lost all fucking senses
My marble floors are killing, gold cars are so relentless
And movin' you moanin', music on the counter in the kitchen
You look insanely whack when just a fraction of my tracks run
I battle more hard then the ghost of mozart,
Fed ain't dumb but they sittin' in the cold dark
Battle ten of ya bitc*es and come out just fine
All the young motherfuckers that was took in they prime
Better than the last stack of bull crap
I can't hold back, it's time to attack jack
We can leave before midnight for sure
Getting fucked by the tenth bull
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