[Part 1: Lynch] Verse 1: Got these d** f**ing with my mind again Got me talking out of line again Got me talking on the same sh** again Got me feeling like the sh** again I'm saying f** rhyme flows and schemes My only scheme is to make white p**y scream As that f**ing beat drops If Tyler can make a quarter mil selling socks Maybe I can make diamonds out of rocks And rock em tighter than this offbeat flow I'm speaking in before I let the drum roll Verse 2: Hear that heartbeat louder than these coke heads with Tourette's Reaching for her heart said she got Cardiac Arrest Chill little mama I'm just tryna palm your breast Underneath that denim vest You rocking Wu Tang shirts but can't tell me bout Inspectah Deck Wow I'm off as sh** Let me get back on it Let me contemplate regrets I'm f**ing with these white girls smoking all of dem cigarettes Tryna nut on a**ets in the back of her daddy's corvette And in a minute she'll soon be consuming my navy cadets Verse 3: Spit sh** worth more than the clothes Ben got feeling thrifty Nastier than a Budnick in a White People Activities Name dropping obscenities got the headshots on Kennedy Jeopardy catogory, top rapper and it's Mr G I'm rapping like an Olzenak or a f**ing C-Murder Causing random beef coughing Micky D hamburgers But f** a beef when your competitions act religiously vegan Plus the score is uneven so f** a rhyme [Part 2: Windchime] Got that Mangekyou in my third eye my visions kinda black Broadway and Myrtle, 50 shades darker than my brand of cognac (YAWK YAWK YAWK YAWK) I'm schoolboy q missing hella stacks Praise be to Ganesha wordplay for days fat like Arethra's rack Fat like the Raws I'm Twisting on Akira's a** crack Fat like the n***a rolling round inside that maybach Fat like the lips on an Odd Future spitter Fat like the gut on that lemonade rapping n***a I'm that blood that Christ mustered on all them splinters I'm sh** you despise, the shiver in Minnesota's winter Hashtag I ain't sh** Hashtag I can't spit Hashtag I got attention for using terms only on the twit Ol Chance the Rapper looking a** Got no award made out of bra** Got no cash to spend on gra** But everyday I'm smoking recording and skipping cla** Brain slow as mola**-es, lungs full of Rez and ashes Teeth getting gritty from angry gnashes Fist getting bloody from all these gashes Yet to hit my pinnacle, but I'm feeling like I'm Ca**ius Dribble jail cells to the ma**es f** white people n***a fascist Fashionist word to my n***a Du oh wait I mean Naf Simons Can't mess with corny gringos but I'm tryna f** their women Words toxic like the Sea of Japan Or when I exhale that cann-abis Miss b**h we don't f** with mids or even cat piss Sour by the hour and my watch is out of power Got 12 hands on every number I'm never quiting on green flowers