Puts ya blicks up, dun this ain't that type of party

Scuffed knuckled thugs, and broads with no fathers

Yeah I peeped but can't call it

They wanna know why my flow is so brolick

And still I drop knowledge adjacent to a harlot

Tinted windows on a street car named desire, you feel me I was stuntin' like I'm Brando, Marlon

Stinkin up the block like a black and mild wine tip

Butter leather Avirex I'm steady on some fly shit

And never been maidenless regard me as your highness

Whippin twisted off the Bombay