Gone with out a trace when i deliver coup de grace
So, why don't you fucking wipe that stupid look on your face
Now tomorrow you sober wishing you ordered a soda
Concha de tu madre bitch don't touch my fuckin mota
Everything at ease, you in double m g presence
Wish i get i could produced by scoop de-ville, no need to take pills
Listen busters, scarier when i finger fuck her
Slick rick, de la soul, and rakim spit sicker,
Used to nun-chuck em, now i got to donatello bow
Catch me in the tour de france the way i cycle this flow
Fif-tee /nine times till ya de-ceased/ im sick son new form of disease/
Maybe i should buy some hundreds, wear some fucking skinny jeans
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