[Verse 1]
I don't really give a mother fuck about a dang thang so whats up mane
I don't care about a modern era social stigma Ima let my saw and axe swang
Independent ballin'
Dylan major leaguing in the minors in a mega major way
Can't nobody fuckin' touch me
Labels wanna sign me
I don't give a fuck I'm getting paid
Clocking G's and kicking back and chiefin' haze I'm bout to resurrect the sandman out his grave
He bout to pop up out the coffin dancing with the cane and come and sweep you bitches off the stage
Mr. Ouija wanna tell me what's the reason that a killer got addicted to the stang
All I wanna do is run up in your house and fill it up with holes and let your guts hang
Swangin' bangin' armed with implements of mass destruction busting shit to split yo fucking face
I'm a domestic terrorist
I practice terrorism whenever I get up on the stage
Point me a tone
Point you a gauge
Bodies on my .9 I'm in a primal rage
I told my momma when I grow up Imma be the same and as you see it wasn't just a phase

[Verse 2]
Cleveland coverall
Baltimore bodysuit
White trash tattoos on my face
I'm in a psychopathic daze a killer creeping in between the stalks of corn to seal your fate
I steal your face and wear it then I take your phone and text your bitch and tell her pick you up at 8
And when she get there I don't mean to split hairs but I split her head open and then take out her brain
Damn I feel like Jeepers Creepers in a way but anyway the wicked shit is here to stay
And it is I the reason that the wicked shit will never die and it'll never go away
Pentecostal tongue of fire
Dylan Ross I paid the cost to be the boss ain't no one higher
Falling off you need to go get hired by a Mickey D's to clean the gristle out they fryer