Psst, I see dead people
(Mustard on the beat, hoe)
Ayy, Mustard on the beat, hoe
Deebo, any rap nigga, he a free throw
Man down, call an amberlamps, tell him, "Breathe, bro"
Nail a nigga to the cross, he walk around like Teezo
What's up with these jabroni-ass niggas tryna see Compton?
The industry can hate me, fuck 'em all and they mama
How many opps you really got? I mean, it's too many options
I'm finna pass on this body, I'm John Stockton
Beat your ass and hide the Bible if God watchin'
Sometimes you gotta pop out and show niggas
Certified boogeyman, I'm the one that up the score with 'em
Walk him down, whole time I know he got some hoe in him
Pole on him, extort shit, bully, Death Row on him
Say, Drake, I hear you like 'em young
You better not ever go to cell block one
To any bitch that talk to him and they in love
Just make sure you hide your lil' sister from him
They tell me Chubbs the only one that get your hand-me-downs
And PARTY at the party, playin' with his nose now
And Baka got a weird case, why is he around?
Certified Lover Boy? Certified pedophiles
Wop, wop, wop, wop, wop, Dot, fuck 'em up
Wop, wop, wop, wop, wop, I'ma do my stuff
Why you trollin' like a bitch? Ain't you tired?
Tryna strike a chord and it's probably A-Minor
They not like us, they not like us, they not like us
ot like us, they not like us