[Hook: Roy and Chris G.]
In my house where my windows are barred
In the cut, you can say that I'm scarred
This sounds "ooey" like "Ratatu"
If you're not in this song, I feel bad for you
Cause I stay grinding, going hard
Living this life on the boulevard
Yeah flowing like Lake Havasu
Spitting these rhymes from my avenue
[Verse 1: Chris G.]
Chris G. on the mic, that's the truth, no psyche
In the booth all night brewing something rife
With lyrical crack and chronic and attractive phonics
Spat sans tonic, with a lack of logic
Cause it sounds absurd, the way I blend nouns with verbs
I tend to burn without mounds of slurs
Or pounds of myrrh, or frankincense
Or whatever they're bakin', sense
I am not makin' it, unless it's some bacon bits
I got you shakin' wit' fake Jamaican hits
A sweet beat, made great for takin' sh**s
There's no mistakin' it, Scott's a Saiyan wit
Verbal vampire fire, there's just no stakin' it
I'm sorta Drakin' it, I'm not joshin y'all
If you run up for a maul, I'll get Posh involved
Beckham's wife, indeed the hottest spice
It won't be nice, and I'll be chuckin' it twice
[Hook: Roy and Chris G.]
In my house where my windows are barred
In the cut, you can say that I'm scarred
This sounds "ooey" like "Ratatu"
If you're not in this song, I feel bad for you
Cause I stay grinding, going hard
Living this life on the boulevard
Yeah flowing like Lake Havasu
Spitting these rhymes from my avenue
[Verse 2: Roy]
I'm a Latin Kanye, call me a "Mexi-Kan"
My tech is more seven than upside-down hexagons
And if you're flexin' on, your girl wants me to be
Who she's textin' on, auto-correcting raps
Like you should go and text again
Could someone please make room for a Mexican?
That used to play basketball
I was point guarding
Had the gifted hands, and I'm still Ben Carson
Is where I'm living at
And you can tell that's where I'm starting from
Tom Cruisin, shooting from the top, Top Gun
And I will not stop until I am done
Cause I am Roy D. Mora, the third rock from the son
And that's earth, and I'm down to it
And so be it, if it really comes down to it
But where'd you go to school though?
Woodruff and Imprerial
And we all know that circle's tighter than a Cherrio
So when I say I'm serious, they will know I'm cereal
[Hook: Roy and Chris G.]
In my house where my windows are barred
In the cut, you can say that I'm scarred
This sounds "ooey" like "Ratatu"
If you're not in this song, I feel bad for you
Cause I stay grinding, going hard
Living this life on the boulevard
Yeah flowing like Lake Havasu
Spitting these rhymes from my avenue