[Verse 1: Smoke DZA] You smell that fragrance You know my steez, you know my squad, you know what my name is The hoes call me Smokey Rugby down low key Smell that strand, I mean that stench my cologne is OG Oh he Only talk about weed and counting loot But what the f** did you expect? That's what I like to do sh** on your best outfit And I'm on my old school Harlem, best-out sh** Who house this? I'm in your fridge about to fix a plate Feet all over your table like I own the place On my Calvin sh** Slide your sister, show your brother cheese Like "Sorry Ms. Billups, we going out to eat." I got a hustler's aura Plus I'm a 9-11 n***a with morals I don't owe you n***as sh**, I ain't got nothing for ya Unless you my CoDee, you don't know me, n***a blow me [Bridge: Mad Max] OK I'll burn the goddamn house down But blow me first, how dare you, how f**ing dare you Rrraaarggghh [Verse 2: Smoke DZA] I get it in, buckets like Gilligan Plus the riddles I riddle like I'm on Ritalin Competition is little cause I get rid of them I'm illa' then, whoever that you considerin' I give a f** how n***as feelin' bout who's hot, son Cause opinions are like Facebook, everybody got one I ain't into fiction, that's a James Cameron feel I'm more like Michael Moore, what I document is real I hate a n***a trying to give advice Talking that k**er sh** and he don't live that life Focus up Don't f** up your day shift Go ahead and miss me with that "back-in-the-day" sh** n***as will tell you anything, foolery Whole lifestyle just ghetto buffoonery I'm on your heels, n***as better pay homage It's fair warnin' cause the game's on orange [Outro: Mad Max] You look like a f**ing b**h in heat And if you get raped by a pack of n******gs it'll be your fault. All right? That's my f**ing mistake, because I should've woke you up and said, 'f**ing blow me, b**h.' I should've f**ing woken you up and said 'blow me.' You would've liked that better, yeah? (panting) Because you got problems, more than me You know how to f**ing push my bu*tons