(*talking*) All good things must come to a end, you know what I'm saying That's the word from the lil' bird I heard, ha k**a Gorilla n***a DJ Storm, Purple Punch the mixtape n***a It's a wrap thank ya, thank ya Superman has just left the building Here a lil' treat, for you motherf**ers that's still listening If your ears open, run it Storm (ladies and gentlemen, you already know what it is man It's your kid Yung Chill, a Lunie-Tunez production oh boy Ha, make bidness) they know who it is run it (*scratching*) [Kyleon] It's lunch time, better yet it's crunch time Pick up the blow put up your flow, and all your punch lines Grab a square, break up the brick quick as a crane Place the powder in the packs, so you can do your thang Get your scale pyrex, and you park em In the kitchen cooking cookies, this is culinary art Working for 28 straight, no less than 26 Anything less than that, then you won't hit the lick Put it in the microwave, now heat it up Pull it out add the cold water, now beat it up Hand me 4-7-5, and you can get your issue I got that hard straight bu*ter, my sh** thick as grissel I hear the fiends whistle, and n***as need work Call me on the burner, don't hit me on the chirp I'm not a terrorist, but FED's on hot alert Itching just to catch a n***a slipping, out here doing dirt (*scratching*)