Alright Can I go back just a little bit Bars for bars I don't fuck with y'all I might put a lawyer on retainer Just to fuck with y'all I might bring your sister to my house And let her hit my weed Told your cousin that your music is trash And they had to agree I am cold Mr. Two Degrees Sick when I spit it Every lyric got a damn disease Song before last I was mad And had to speak my peace Now I come for necks Fuck a mic I use a guillotine I'm in the mix like a raw egg And you know I keep the kin near me Like my name Greg With your mother watching Barbie It's a bootleg We're just friends Don't worry about it Naw it's cool, Bob Chiller than the man with the pipe that is corncob Beast with a beauty and behind me is a big mob All up in the club getting turnt like a door knob All up in the club getting sloppier than blowjobs I am so outlandish Hitting pirouettes to my catalogue expansion Eight missed calls, but no caller ID Would you please tell your boo They can't be my companion