Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don′t make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stangMr. high-capper, don't make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don′t make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don't make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don't make me touch ya mane

Overcast fame

Wait until it rains flames

Got an acid washed brain looking like bleach stains

I blame the reign of fucking chains

That′s why all of us are tame

Staying in a fucking cage

I can′t live this way

While we harvest limited grain, they stay sipping cold Moet

Satan hears me pray

Yes I became his prey

Blood leaks out my veins

Got my palms pressed together as I whisper Namaste

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don't make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don′t make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don't make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don′t make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don't make me touch ya mane

Yung Scarecrow with a couple pills foaming out my mouth

Nicotine smoking mother fuckers out the south

I cop a slug

Spray ′em up

Let 'em lay in blood

Stuck in the mud sipping Tuss

I can't give it up

Don′t give a fuck when the buds stuffed up in my blunt

I′m saying please

P-P-Please don't make me make a stain

Hollow tips in your brain

Body filled with pain

Come feel the reign of the clinically insane

Ho

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don′t make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don't make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don′t make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don't make me touch ya mane

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don′t make me touch ya mane

What is that stain

That is a mess

Made on your shirt

Sunk on your chest

Dripping out wet and I'm leaving the set

Taking your heart with no evidence left

Better expect

To run out of breath

Your life will consist of the end of reality

Tell the po-lice I'm baraka on coppas′

The "Kombat" is mortal from all the brutalities

Put in the work with the deadliest faculties

This is a robbery coming to piece

Visit the haters vacate in the heat

The devils are proud of me now that I teach it

The classes are over I am released

The classes to wake up the students asleep

These musical chairs the prettiest seats

Because me really love to make a stang

Mr. high-capper, don′t make me touch ya mane