Plaid Palm Trees

[Intro]

[Verse 1: Dopehead]
I just want to rage and kill rappers on stage
Boss up shake down in your baby mama face
You rappers dick suckin', Y'all way past fake
If you ain't a Bruiser stay the fuck up out my face
Dopehead, nightmare, natural disaster
Battle me? Results to suits, flowers, and pastors
Oh that's your bitch? It really don't matter
For breakfast bust a nut up in her pancake batter
After tech sex, she give me wet neck
No attention to these rappers, these niggas is self check
Everybody buzzin' albums and they music garbage
Dopehead bitch, I'm just getting started
Style so Bruiser, see it from a block away
Punch you in the throat and say "fuck what you 'bout to say"
Fuck rappers; you say you real, but all you do is gossip
These cake niggas punk, fake, and never prosper
I'm from the jungle where a pistol is the dress code
Crummy got locked and Big Meech had the best dope