From the top

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up when I’m talking to you

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

SHUT UP

I’m about to br…

Wasn’t that fun?

Let’s try something else...

Forty-five caliber killa

But out of the philla-dela-realla

Show yall brothas how you not a guerrilla

Smooth talking, fully automatic weapon concealer

Taste thriller, break thriller

Let’s hit ’em with the bounce filler

Filthy stinking, standing on solid ground

And still be sinking, submerging in the parks

Still be linking, plucked beef when it starts

To fuck your thinking, it’s not a mirage

I’m in the motherfucking tractor, yo, from out the garage

With an if, you to duck, but it’s hard to dodge

In the back of the spine where my dawgs, they lie

Going to flip it straight up, ripping apart your squad

X-ecutioner style, cuts and blends like a syringe

Hanging you from each of your limbs

See me coming through the party hard without no bodyguard

Smoking something, stomping on each of you Tims

I’m the B-to-the-L, the A, the C, K

And when it comes to planning

The thought to keep thinking, man

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

SHUT UP

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up