Tex Watson

Intro:

Yes I'll wait, had a birthday (?), to the party, man

Verse:

Ayo, yo, I hit you with dope, every sleeve
Presidential Dutch burnin' cherry trees
Just bury me, where Chuck Berry be
And heavenly (yeah), I'm heat pitchin'
Deformed weird like Terry Leach
Don't even bite Jak's shit, verbatim
Pick a rapper you want me to do a track with (yeah), I hate him (Word)
I'll make ya hang up phone calls, from the crib
To the favorite rapper I'm like a God but they call mе a dick
Dunce cap in the corner spit porеs of my wig
I don't tour, I usually get stonewalled by some kid
Noose, rope, loop my hands
Looper jammed, and go stupid ham
Two thumbs up with a smile, who's the man?
And lose their fans
Puffin' fumes from coolant cans
Gettin' dark in the booth (uh), like I be sprayin', too much tan
I'm fire, pull up my head out the oven, with extra onions
I'm Olmar in Orlando clubbin'
You mad 'cause I still be buzzin' (Word)
I'm not in no coven, I'm on the hillside sunnin'
I'm Angelo Buono's cousin
On camp, you can get duff like McLovin
Don't follow me to my home (No)
I wanna die alone, always stoned
Growin' weeds in the crib like Troll
Casanova like Paul Knowles
More white on my nose
Then I'm up in Swedish chef at the stove
Selfish, this that "never had an album on the shelf" shit
I just rap, I'm here to rap
Apparently, no...
Alright man that's enough

Outro:

- First we get like a shit ton of tall cans, right
- Then an eightball
- No, a quarter Rosé, fifth of Jag, thn you take the edge off, then we spark up the thick relations ganj', bud, get hose chicks all horned doned out
- Ups, man, I'm just gonna do what we always do, we drive around like dumb fucks, we're gonna hang at that stop and go place, man, because we're not those burritos