[Intro]
Hey man a, hey what they-
Haiti like, won Independence 1791, 1804, they gave us our papers and stuff
[?], you know that's for everybody

[Chorus]
Christopher Columbus, sellin' infos I be dufflin'
Shittin' on these n***as, pootin' on 'em like I'm Russian
I Feel like Willy Lynch hanging out the Cutlass
You can't hang me on no tree unless there's money
Jesus died on Friday, how the hell did he wake up on Sunday
Me and Djay really up for three days, thuggin likes its funny
Ayy, all y'all want the same bihh, im driftin' I won't cuff em
Ayy, n***as ain't really eatin' for real just know I know you muzzled

[Verse 1]
It ain't Easter, but I'm outchere, im car hopping like a bunny
Ain't on that Easter shit, she wanna have my egg But I ain't nuttin
I just got the splat for nothing Just to buck it, then I dumped it, still feel like a fugitive Cause every day I'm road running
Ain't on the ground no more But I still be cross the tracks like Harriet Tubman
I'm stereotyped, but I got a white blondie
Give me head til dummy, don't trust you with my livelihood Can't even trust you with my money
Don't trust myself, cause I'm a crook And trust is not applied to money
Get the job done fucking nine to five fire a n***a up in public The Glock, it got a private part But I would let her go off in public

[Chorus]
Christopher Columbus, sellin' infos I be dufflin'
Shittin' on these n***as, pootin' on 'em like I'm Russian
I Feel like Willy Lynch hanging out the Cutlass
You can't hang me on no tree unless there's money
Jesus died on Friday, how the hell did he wake up on Sunday
Me and Djay really up for three days, thuggin likes its funny
Ayy, all y'all want the same bihh, im driftin' I won't cuff em
Ayy, n***as ain't really eatin' for real just know I know you muzzled
[Verse 2]
You know you won't die for me, you know you won't blast for me
Hell you ain't rockin, but that sniper shit my strategy
N***a I'm bout it, bout it soldiers like I'm Master P
I be on the magazine, I still be totin magazines
I fell in love with Ratchets grew up doing savage things
Yeah, that snapping made me feel like fuck this rapping thing
Kunta Kinte, I be battling tragedies
I run it like I'm Reggie Jackson on the track feild team
To make it out of hood, gotta be a rapper or athlete
My uncle name was Marshall, he knew I was a masterpiece
He used to tell them n***as about letting me roll dice at the dope stroll, They used to be like shit this young lil n***a the one who winning gold
Was a young n***a when I was grown I'm a young n***a but I'm grown
And he let me hold chrome, but he can never diss me on no song
N***a my cranium is off, baby, you don't know what time I'm on
You need to go run down on your own, n***a I ran down on my own
I ain't gotta tell you what I'ma do, n***a I'ma do it on my own
Cause when I lay down in my death bed, n***a I'm snoozing by my own Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, what the hell I be on? I can act a fool then I can start rapping cool and drop jewels on these songs

[Chorus]
Christopher Columbus, sellin' infos I be dufflin'
Shittin' on these n***as, pootin' on 'em like I'm Russian
I Feel like Willy Lynch hanging out the Cutlass
You can't hang me on no tree unless there's money
Jesus died on Friday, how the hell did he wake up on Sunday
Me and Djay really up for three days, thuggin likes its funny
Ayy, all y'all want the same bihh, im driftin' I won't cuff em
Ayy, n***as ain't really eatin' for real just know I know you muzzled