[Verse 1]
Tongue got potholes, bumpy ride, hot flows
Shift tectonics like a rift when he talk slow
Hit the piff quick, not because he hollow though
It helps to riff slicker like a grip hold on the Roscoe
Click, wait, the shot go in the plate like Capone ate a whole race of soul trace, but not before a closed gate
Solar Polar make your molars whole again, pain is in the brain
Hold your molars closed until you stroll the hall of fame
Get the Rogaine, the game's drained of all follicles
Bought skull particles jot a dotted line in full
Align the bull with motive, you learn it's terms alone that drove him
Spot a crime, not the time to ponder on it, on the grind
Adjust the mind for stealth and bust a rhyme about yourself
Punchline of the month, a humble mumble, lump of crumb in wealth
Special differential is he conscious mental non-essential
Wanna slice the old cheddar? Kid's got the right utensils
Hence the ends of whence, enter present senses left to process estimates of dome's rest, less is best to nestle in
Enough about the funny kid, bluff, get the money quick honey
Peep the f**nut buffoon with the plush bunny
Settle on the plot, he got the devil hot, it's petty, stop
Let the Fetty Waps get the pot, pimp the penny stock
The nod to God is transparent as the Bloody Baron
They're in shock the flow's just as borrow-sewn as what he wearing