[Verse: Pilot] Ashby road, bumping Max B flows With Apache hoes in the cameos With the panties moist, got a raspy voice When we pack these joints Laying up with shorty, but don't lack three points From half court, mad chores, verse dirty Like sandstorms in my mud pie, tongue-tied, shorty still flirty I guess she feel worthy, tornado spilled my slurpy on the turntable First snake hole I stepped in jacked my left sneaker Left venom samples, made the theft sweeter Thinking back when Grandma would get seizures Makes Mom feel the blues even in red T-shirts Catch Z's with Caesar, soul roaming, wounds open, tomb open For bodies, to clone this and copy is to give me my only worthy opponent Honeys trying to swap genes, giving up punani for a bonus Or at least a bonus track, them audio clips is crack Walk off cliffs and I get saved only to walk into a trap Thoroughly mapped out from the trap house I just want to body those snares and claps The way them cheeks can clap, I'd think I'm having standing ovations, but she's sitting on my lap Ready to ride me and fastened her seat belt Any further details will make heat melt, so I'll continue to let my flows overlap You posers is whack, yeah you posers is whack Pulverize with the hand I'm dealt with no poker face Need closure when you close your eyes, want to open them to see your soldier's face But he's in a better place, yeah he's in a better place Told him he was the last supper that seven ate It all depends on what direction you count Devils refuse to bounce and you can't maneuver out There's only one way out when entering Ashby Road: Join the turf owners, helping snatch these souls