[Intro]
Yeah, Evil Red Flame. Yeah. Shouts out to Biggie. Yeah I see you. Shouts out to Funk Master Flex. I got you my n***a. Lil B for Lil Boss. Good looking. I got you

[Verse 1]
Man Boss don't fuck with bitches
In this coupe sky-high, and its lookin like I come for cash
Can't no n***a touch like the slaving days
Worked too fucking hard like it's training day
Coming straight out the clouds like a rainy day
How the fuck I run the rap game, it's the crack game
A lot of n***as talk nonsense, pass it
Most of these rap n***as is living off fashion
And I can give a fuck about how you dress to be honest
If your bank account ain't got 15 commas
Trying to rob me, catching knuckles like Sonic
Throwing up the blood and I ain't talking bout vomit
Real Berkeley no I don't gang bang
Real rap n***as die over the same thing
Fuck around that'd be a nine to your hamstring
Treat em like the season no this ain't a damn game
30 mac clips, we all hold silly shit
Got a life sentence and my parents do real shit
Tiny jeans make you think I'm a young faggot
Now you gone bitch, who the real n***a lasting
Up in plastic
Fuck the house, ain't putting shit up in the mattress
Think you hard with the booty Doug Flutie
Brett Favre of the rap game, won't lose me
Can't beat me, hand gun get the Uzi
Clap n***as like jokes at the end of the movies
Not Austin Powers but I got real groovy
Same lawyer as John Tesh, bitch sue me
Real shit
[Outro]