[Intro: Ab-Soul] Rude boy Ab-Soul Top Dawg rottweiler Just fall in this motherf**er like [Verse 1: Ab-Soul] Just tell me when, I'm ready baby I been ready baby, since 1987 sometime late February I'm a boss I need an office and a secretary Numero uno, you know, never secondary And I'mma stunt even if a n***a never dare me They say I'm legendary, but I ain't done much Never heard of a knife, right, I'm uncut That's raw footage, don't get it f**ed up And you ain't shot sh**, that was Duck Hunt I scare 'em, you saw me and thought you saw three Cause I could put your life on pause like dogs feet And you don't wanna Top Notch dot com-pete Cause like this track, I got y'all beat By like a hundred f**in' points I'mma have to celebrate and smoke a hundred f**in' joints, light up I feel like smokin' a n***a Summer day supersoakin' a n***a, yeah him and both of his n***as Can get it fresh out of the clip and a surgeon could stitch him up Affirmative, permanent rest, but [Hook: Ab-Soul] Me no want nobody body on my guns Me no want nobody body on my guns Say Me no want nobody body on my guns Me no want nobody body on my guns No [Verse 2: Ab-Soul] I get this funny feelin' around wannabe k**ers Who supposed to move in silence, but be loud as sirens And when it go down, they known to back down like, "Stop the violence" And will probably cry if ever locked in a cage like Biron I'm crucifying liars like Pontius Pilate Whoever try'll vanish I'm on a wack rapper diet and I'm famished Hi, I'm so high I could kick the planet Watch your world shift and then fix the damage I talk bread like every second, I been a sandwich And you're in the wrong profession, you're like a deaf pianist And you could use a pill like fresh bananas I do this in my sleep, smooth like silk pajamas But you don't wanna Top Notch dot com-pete Cause like this track, I got y'all beat By like a hundred f**in' points I'mma have to celebrate and smoke a hundred f**in' joints, light up I feel like smokin' a n***a Summer day supersoakin' a n***a, yeah him and both of his n***as Can get it fresh out of the clip and a surgeon could stitch him up Affirmative, permanent rest, but [Hook] [Verse 3: Jay Rock] I swear it's days I feel like bustin' my gun n***as be pushin' me thinkin' I'm p**y Until I clap, leave him on his back, from the mac Empty the clip leave him stiff as a spliff, y'all don't hear me though 38s we don't play with those AR hit your arm, have your homies like, "Where'd it go?" I hate them fake rappers, better calm it down Come to my town, I'mma show you how this llama sound [?] holdin' my waste, Gucci belt buckle Big a** [?] in my pocket, a couple of gs In the club with Soul, yeah we puffin' the weed Makin' it rain, money's nothin' to me But n***as envy us, come and test us Hot bullets hit your chest, f** your flesh up Duck, I don't wanna leave a body on my gat f** around and leave a f**in' dead body on the track Damn, you don't wanna Top Dawg dot com-pete I put a cease and desist on your heartbeat Why? Because I'm motherf**in' nuts Me and Soul go celebrate and smoke a hundred f**in' blunts I feel like smokin' a n***a Summer day supersoakin' a n***a, yeah him and both of his n***as Can get it fresh out of the clip and a surgeon could stitch him up Affirmative, permanent rest, what [Hook] x2