[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