[Intro: Ab-Soul]
Rude boy Ab-Soul
Top Dawg rottweiler
Just fall in this motherf**er like
[Verse 1: Ab-Soul]
Just tell me when, I'm ready baby
I been ready baby, since 1987 sometime late February
I'm a boss I need an office and a secretary
Numero uno, you know, never secondary
And I'mma stunt even if a n***a never dare me
They say I'm legendary, but I ain't done much
Never heard of a knife, right, I'm uncut
That's raw footage, don't get it f**ed up
And you ain't shot sh**, that was Duck Hunt
I scare 'em, you saw me and thought you saw three
Cause I could put your life on pause like dogs feet
And you don't wanna Top Notch dot com-pete
Cause like this track, I got y'all beat
By like a hundred f**in' points
I'mma have to celebrate and smoke a hundred f**in' joints, light up
I feel like smokin' a n***a
Summer day supersoakin' a n***a, yeah him and both of his n***as
Can get it fresh out of the clip and a surgeon could stitch him up
Affirmative, permanent rest, but
[Hook: Ab-Soul]
Me no want nobody body on my guns
Me no want nobody body on my guns
Say
Me no want nobody body on my guns
Me no want nobody body on my guns
No
[Verse 2: Ab-Soul]
I get this funny feelin' around wannabe k**ers
Who supposed to move in silence, but be loud as sirens
And when it go down, they known to back down like, "Stop the violence"
And will probably cry if ever locked in a cage like Biron
I'm crucifying liars like Pontius Pilate
Whoever try'll vanish
I'm on a wack rapper diet and I'm famished
Hi, I'm so high I could kick the planet
Watch your world shift and then fix the damage
I talk bread like every second, I been a sandwich
And you're in the wrong profession, you're like a deaf pianist
And you could use a pill like fresh bananas
I do this in my sleep, smooth like silk pajamas
But you don't wanna Top Notch dot com-pete
Cause like this track, I got y'all beat
By like a hundred f**in' points
I'mma have to celebrate and smoke a hundred f**in' joints, light up
I feel like smokin' a n***a
Summer day supersoakin' a n***a, yeah him and both of his n***as
Can get it fresh out of the clip and a surgeon could stitch him up
Affirmative, permanent rest, but
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Jay Rock]
I swear it's days I feel like bustin' my gun
n***as be pushin' me thinkin' I'm p**y
Until I clap, leave him on his back, from the mac
Empty the clip leave him stiff as a spliff, y'all don't hear me though
38s we don't play with those
AR hit your arm, have your homies like, "Where'd it go?"
I hate them fake rappers, better calm it down
Come to my town, I'mma show you how this llama sound
[?] holdin' my waste, Gucci belt buckle
Big a** [?] in my pocket, a couple of gs
In the club with Soul, yeah we puffin' the weed
Makin' it rain, money's nothin' to me
But n***as envy us, come and test us
Hot bullets hit your chest, f** your flesh up
Duck, I don't wanna leave a body on my gat
f** around and leave a f**in' dead body on the track
Damn, you don't wanna Top Dawg dot com-pete
I put a cease and desist on your heartbeat
Why? Because I'm motherf**in' nuts
Me and Soul go celebrate and smoke a hundred f**in' blunts
I feel like smokin' a n***a
Summer day supersoakin' a n***a, yeah him and both of his n***as
Can get it fresh out of the clip and a surgeon could stitch him up
Affirmative, permanent rest, what
[Hook] x2