[Verse 3: Dylan Ross]
Hit em with the muthafuckin' whirl once again
I ain't sipping on juice, I ain't sipping on gin
As I creep through the mud all you hear is a thud
And I'm sipping on blood as I do you in
I ain't gotta prove shit
To you to win
Bitch I'm back up in the streets fuck a booth and a pen (fuck rap)
Ten toes down make you run from the sound
Of a hollow tip whistling all through the town
Down for the crown and I'm down for the cause
I'm down for breaking jaws, I'm down for breaking laws
I'm down for paying a cost
I'm down for being a boss
I'm down for having the [?]
You can feel up in my jeans, I got bigger balls
Many men up in the streets they got menopause
I'm here to give every other rapper and men a loss
Zaggin' like a bone and the bone zag make a heart
I'll make you meet your fucking maker bitch I ain't no faker
Why you thinking I'm wearing a three piece suit
Pushing a Studebaker
Four
Motherfucker I'm bout to go to war I'm on her throat fucking Molly so the kick so be my whore
I'm aiming with tha four
I'm accustomed to proper grammar bitch but not no more
Let the acid rain pour
Down on ya
About to sick the hounds on ya
Rest in Peace to Mister Aches creeping out the ground on ya
[Hook]