[Intro: Jesse Turvey]
I just don't know if I'm ready for a blunt or not
I mean like I never tried one before
But my friends tell me that it's really fun
That's a lot of weed
Swag
[Verse 1: Jesse Turvey]
Well first off
I be the first off
Already cursed so we know I be the worst off
You the first off at the first stop
So you better NOT…
Fall asleep
Popper Gang 5 deep in this b**h
Oh sh**, 1 short of a triple 6 clique
666 in a church with a burnt hearse while I'm fistin a dead Christian b**h
Yup, I'm aware that it's f**ed up but I love it
I'm writing enticing fantasies of Mr.Coathanger in a stomach
But f** it
My stories are sh**
I don't write books I write hits
That's why I k** people and burn sh** and than f** school like a b**h
With a fake pair of tits
And the fake kids egos that are bigger than her a**
I'm sittin' at the back with a backpack of the Science lab
And I'm thinkin' about blown' up the cla**
Oh well
You can find me mixin' and matchin
And changing the mask for fashion
Masturbate while Im stabbing a b**h
Kinda like Terry Fox
While I'm running' up the block with my co*k in my hand
The roses are red
The violets are blue
And I got a gun, so get in the van b**h
This a demonstration
Me and Mr.Coathanger ain't playin
I got b**h up in the trunk, so I'm sitting in the front
While he's driving in the van that we get away in
[Verse 2: Mr.Coathanger]
f** you and your antics
I'm a leave you f**in' frantic
Running in panic… b*tch
What the f** you gonna when I spit this quick
All you f**in b**hes just b**hes
Get ya clit licked
Nick slick sh**
No disses or witnesses
This is just business
Try to take my riches
Leave you swimming' with fishes
You're just a patient on Doctor Coathangers waiting list
I don't really give a sh** about you mother f**ers causin' a ruckus
You kickin' a bucket I'm rhyming' above it
f** it
Yo, I make that b**h bleed like I f**ed her with my razor dick
She still lays there screaming holy f** you are amazing Nick
I ain't tryna say that I'm a f**in' thug and sh**
I just do what I do
And I'm f**in' in love with it
You once told me that I was obsessed
But you still havn't dropped the fact
That I f**ed your b**h yet
Grip the tech
Let it off
You mother f**ers is running off to the end of the block
Dead end
You bout to get dropped
Prayin to lord he doesn't exist
You prayin to the floor, gun to your head
But I back up and spray it instead…
f*ggot
[Outro: Johnny Poppers]
Hahahahah yea
It's that mother f**in' Popper Gang
It's like a mental institution up in this b**h
Triple poppers all day, don't give a f** !
fu*k BOB BARKER !