[Verse 1: Crooked I]
This is a letter to my true fans
Take the letter N off the end of fan
Add an M, yeah you my true fam
I ain't never needed a news stand
Just a new stance to understand the dudes the truth, damn
Kiss a record executive's a** I can't do
They wanna rape you before they bathe and ape you
I'm clapping my hands, p**y rapper well done
They bent you over, made you spell run, (R-U-N)
Now that's some deep sh**, I'm on some G sh**
Like getting your peeps hit and not giving a f** the least bit
My trigger click lickety split, quick as E-Swift
Sip the liquor, that's how quick a n***a's heat spit
I'm rap terror, I'm eating n***a's insides
Heart dark as mascara surrounding Prince eyes
Ya'll small french fries, inch size
This brother lynch guys, you'll be dead way before the stench dies
I'm a way better swinger like I was trained by Mayweather Sr
Crooked, they never seen ya, grey leather seats in the Modena
sh** that straight cheddar bringer
Still thugging wave middle fingers
Bosstradamus, this year I'm dropping "B.O.S.S." I promise
Haters, yeah I came across your comments
While I was lost off in the Bahamas
With a awesome little mama
Like Buffy peeling off pyjamas
p**y so good I threw her some cheese son
Dick was even better so she gave me a refund
Speaking of dick I'm thinking you pricks can eat one
And don't ride mine when that summer heat come
They say the truth shall come to the light
I guess the spotlight is on me when I'm clutching the mic
Clutching it like chrome pipes
Not the kind you find under a bike
The kind that makes swines run for your life
All you best rappers alive, you make a n***a laugh 'til I cry
Put the cash up, dance with the I
You could be the best rapper alive after I die
Then I come back twice rapping with the pa**ion of Christ
Married to the streets, made her sign a prenup
Taking my paper to the grave, bury me G'd up
LBC'd up, yeah COB'd up
So far ahead of you meth heads you better speed up
n***as pop pills getting E'd up
Me, I'm addicted to Lunesta cause I do it in my sleep, what
B.O.S.S., see you next week