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
