[Verse 1] Aight im tryna rap, so shut that ho up She got that long island voice, b**hy as f** And if she dont stop yappin, then out the truck You know that ho will go, scenery moving slow Seemingly goose I'll throw, back half a bottle though I'm waiting for the one to find me dying, drive me home Because I'm far from it, but the bottle numbed it And if she feenin for the pipe, you know I gotta plumb it Shoutout to J.R., Smith, Wesson and AR 15 on my mind, peeping tom by my blinds Charlie Sheen snorting lines, off your girlfriends a** crack Whose line is it anyway, we'll take it off that last rack White lines off those tan lines, that's lineception And if u ain't feeling the pun, then u can meet my weapon Hands or teeth or all above, you know when push comes to shove We find the kush and blaze it up, and lock you down in johnny's truck Who the f** is johnny? I don't know, but his truck is nice I'll dip faster than O.J. and hit the open mics And spit stronger than i hate myself on lonely nights We win so many battles but always lose the fight [Hook] We always lose the fight, but maybe not tonight We always lose the fight, but f** it not tonight We always lose the fight, but no, not tonight Not-not tonight x2 We always lose the fight, but f** it not tonight [Verse 2] Because tonight I'm feeling different More than every rap I've written I feel alive, I feel insane, I feel the anger in my brain I feel it rise, I feel the pain, I feel the beast let off the chain I feel the demons coming I see the angels running Woulda sold my soul to the devil, but that'd be kinda pointless Cause on my head I got these horns, and they're kinda pointed Get it b**h I'm Lucifer, Diablo's in your life now And get your hands off of me, you stupid little dyke cow Ow, that was kinda harsh, I act the fool Considering i like beef, short girls, lesbians too Matter fact gimme the latter two, we'll get it rockin If she's small like 5"2, I'll stuff it like a christmas stocking Can't afford a Bronco though, so as of now I have no ho All I got's this bag of blow, a pen, and a dreadful flow Sleepless in Seattle Drown in the ink doing the doggy paddle