Yeat’s Turban

[Verse]
When I hit the booth I spit venom like a cobra
Gotta get the views up 'cause I haven't hit the quota
I smoke weed while I rap, you hit this shit? It'll choke ya
Bitch, I'm fried off the green, I ain't talking 'bout no okra
We're up in the trap, this ain't Williams-Sonoma
Giving testers to the whole crowd, something like I'm Oprah
The shit I got on me will put you in a coma
Big stanky leg 'Wood stuffed with mesothelioma
The way I make these bitches sick, you would've thought I had the 'Rona
All my hoes super bad, something like I'm Jonah
It was all jokes whеn I said that I would smoke ya
Have my Greek shooter hit you with thе fire, opa
I'm pissing on these hams like some sea urchins
Unky wrapped the pack loose like Yeat's turban
I put my man on his feet, I'm a knee surgeon
The plug look like Keith David, fiend's look like Keith Irving
My opp's bitch look like Kim, call me "Petey"
I done tore up her walls but I don't do no graffiti
I got off on a ham for two boxes of ziti
We know Dutch got that plan, he's on a flight to Tahiti
They say life's a game, let me level up my stats
With my rascals, not my slatts
On the road, Rascal Flatts
Fuck a Rollie, want a Pip-Boy, finna do my opp with V.A.T.S
I had a gun in middle school, I ain't wrestle on no mats
I ain't tryna make no friends, I'm tryna rob some fools
Three-five to the dome, the 'Wood stuffed with Gabagool
You be talking 'bout these drugs, you ain't seen a molecule
Lexy don't smoke crud but she said the molly's cool
I'm on I-94 like a trucker
Watching out for cherry tops, using darkness as a cover
I got this chop off the street plus I'm riding with a stuffer
If the feds pull behind us, kill the lights, burn the rubber
In the room I'm fucking lying, I'm not Honest Abe
Bums thinking I'm a lick? They must be confused and dazed
You beg these hoes to stay, I clap and part ways
All my hoes pure bred, you be picking up the strays
I say alhamdulillah but I don't practice my piousness
Big burner on me giving me psoriasis
Shout-out to the one but I don't give the treesh my cash
Big burner on my hip fucking giving me a rash
The money's good green but it's better when it's blue
All I give a fuck about is revenue
Hit it with whatever, Irene tweaking off the residue
I could sleep for a year and I'd still be ahead of you
I got the wrench and the ratchet but I've never been a car man
Two 'bows, blowing through the 'Woods like I'm Tarzan
Jackie loves the powder, she's never been a tar fan
I used to serve her on her lunch break at Art Van
I'm a underground rapper, I don't sing no pretty songs
My bicep's a quarter inch but that chopper strong as Diddy Kong
You're only tough on the 'net, you a Digimon
The plug calling every two minutes like Simeon

[Outro]
"Hey, look, man"
"Look? You were like a son to me. Employee of the month. Does that mean nothing to you?"
"Man, the dude had a gun to my head"
"No loyalty. No integrity. You should've taken the bullet. My business, my totally legitamite business. You are fucked, my boy. Fucked"