Bitch got a black eye and Stifler got six stitches
Touch me I fight
Look, its time move something I onto my next victim
When I see her symptoms, cannibalism in form of some rat music
Take away your track then abuse it, amusement
Hits my face then down to my palms
I picked up the pen then I started a war
I wrote out a couple letters to throw out to fellas
Tell em if they aint thinking bout running, they better
I sank my teeth in the neck of the game
Assassinating any prey that thinking they big game
I Son of Sam things when I stow them in the attic
Aint nobody else can have it
Simplistically gifted, they was close but they missed it
I change a four to a dollar sign, no shifting
Oven on my spitter turn dough into a biscuit
Now Im here to fuck up beats that rewind and skip the dipshit
Were recording
Fucking right Im a misfit
Times in the hoodie you can stay on your rich shit
I never wished it, I just get lifted and listen
Aww, yeah, no