[Verse 1: Harold McSloth]
Go ahead and picture this, because you know it's the sh**
I'll spit this mental arithmetic until I'm quick to flip
Me and Dratch are seeing past the bullsh**
Way too ambitious to ever dull it down
Finna paint the town red so they'll never say "Who?" like Pete Townshend
Slothface, got [?]baked[?], straight to ya muthaf**in' face
So f** the sheep, rush to the Jeep for a shootout
Just like 2Pac and Biggie, it's gonna be bru-tal
And to the comparison, lame, any competition is straight embarra**ing, mane
This beat right here, provided by Mr. Harrison Mains
Or Mr. Dratch, who's quick to snatch your fanbase and make em some damn slaves
Injured, but f** a band-aid
Me, Sting, and Phil Collins are doin' our damn thang
[Verse 2: Dratchface]
Yo, Slothface fo' rizzle
Up in the house, so all you s**a MC's quit beating around the bush, y'all
It's Dratchface again
The one who makes MC's walk away like U. K. Le Guine
A great, smart rhymer, the quasar rider
Bound to make art that's straight sci-fi like H. R. Giger
I learn instruments like an Asian kid's momma and poppa made him did
Lyrics laden with hatin' id
A personality based around a shrug, on you like the hounds of love
I'm bound to shove Kendrick out my way and take my place on the rap throne
Apt to blow so I can cop more homes than Basil Rathbone
So white and smooth, I make rappers take off like they're intolerant of lactose
(You'd think they're jerkin' you when they talk about slappin' ho's)
Cuz it's a euphemism for shootin jizzum
I divide crews like light shining through a prism
On some Dark Side sh**, surreal like some Far Side sh**
Sloth and I are a fine fit