Famicom Boys ft. $toneface Doomalay Lyrics

Four in the morning I'm blazed eyes with the coffee breath

My whole squad got the hollows that rearrange your chest

Woke up hungover between two pairs of Asian breasts

They dressed in negligee's and nets I'm bathing ape up to the neck

My Trish Stratus clone top me in my Shinjuku pad

Keep the contraband in the Dapper Dan custom duffel bags

And my Tori Wilson give me toppy like she's Sarah J

While in Shibuya traffic in a Benz with American plates

Sumo style rituals, the hood booga habituals

The Famicom boys run up on you just like it's Techmo Bowl

Say what you want motherfucker, I know the talk is cheap

If you don't get my money then I'll put your fucking brain to sleep

Fully loaded Tom Doolie, one zapper, one menacer

D'USSE stains on my church robe, the Mack minister

Pray to God for mo' hoes, already got ten of em

But need to start a lineup, I be Belichick, pimping em

I'm Misinterpret the rules, I keep a few nails

Under both of my gloves after I use the Philly shell

And I use it well, buck turn your ears into dinner bells

Get Brian Bosworth'd, trying to touch the paper trail

Balling like it's Techmo Bowl, Bo Jackson jersey

Making joints out the Elder scrolls, black market reaper

Pay you cash if you sell your soul

And Tyson ain't got better hands

That right cross will sleep you

But that left blast like Mega Man

Bitch, how you gon' see me as less than king

I'm Don Corley, I put 40 up on my ring

Sonnin' niggas like Melvin, you so guns and butterless

She pull the damage out your bitch a Yoshi for my mushroom tip

Blue Dream with a side dish of promethazine

Cocaine powder stashed in the box of OxyClean

I got the Oxycontin sold all my Vicodin

Stashed my molly capsules in my Flintstone vitamins

Crystal blue dreams mixed with that methamphetamine

No Assassin's Creed but keep the blades up under the sleeve

Back for redemption, dirty Harry and the ankle holster

Whipping that yayo increasing the yields with baking soda

Do what you wanna but don't tell my mama what I'm selling

Arms crossed, you a dirty motherfucker Melvin

Squat and fuck your mama so loud your night was restless

I'm naked in the kitchen sipping Kool-Aid, you want some breakfast

Shout out to Joseph Summers

All hail our glorious leader