[Intro]
Yah, they be like, "Jarren
Where the fuck you've been, dawg?"
I'm back n***a, K-K-Kato on the track, bitch

[Verse 1]
Slow Motion, this is Volume 2
A pussy n***a what we calling you
My pockets right, let's hit a mall or two
Ayy me and flick will drink up all the goose
The bitches show love to all the crew
I rap to get dough, that's all I do
Aye middle finger up to all of you!
Aye Jarren what happened to Funk Volume?
Holy Christ Jesus Cliff Huxtable
Drunk enough a fat bitch is fuckable
Flashy n***a all my sneakers colorful
N***a shooting outta BMW
Still stepping out in my Adidas
1800 in my margarita
She gon' let me give her throat a fetus
Imma go to sleep and she gon' roll the reefer
Told you I'm not a human n***a
They watchin us just like the Truman n***as
Brass knuckles I would ruin n***as
I snapped the neck of fucking two gorillas
All this pussy feeling too familiar
Oh that's right, that's Kato's mom
Ya'll just talking, ya'll don't spray those guns
I eat a rapper like a bagel bun
These bitches thinking imma ice they wrist
Cause I love they ass and really like they tits
Who gassed these bitches like they nitrous
Oxide, one night the bitch
The future's here, we got the microchips
Hey really soon I might strike it rich
Hey life's a bitch
And her sister's a cunt
And any second bitch I might just flip
All this liquor got me feeling woozy
She got lick my dick and fucking hoack a loogie
I'll pull the knife and fucking drop the toolie
Illest n***a of the top loose-leaf
Fuck cancer, send a prayer to Boosie
Groupies let me get that oochie koochie
I kill a bitch if my dick gets cooties
A group of moolies bout to spray the uzi!
[Interlude]
Fuck you Kato
All of you talking shit man
Appreciate y'all staying patient
Slow Motion 2!

[Verse 2]
Yeah
Now I bought a Ferragamo belt
I love the way marijuana smell
These dirty bitches let you run a train
I call that lil bitch the monorail
N***as can't duck 100 shells
This that dope that don't sit on a scale
If you n***as really whip the colt
Put 100k up for the bail
Never used a fucking ghost writer
Every fucking word I wrote is fire
You ain't hotter than a broke lighter
Tell that bitch to ride it like a low-rider
In this bitch I'm figting vices n***a
Pray for Paris fighting ISIS n***as
It ain't even safe up in a church
I might stick a knife in n***as
Used to sip a little syrup
But n***as keep turning up dead
They like you n***as is junkies
They agenda go over your head
Yeah
Love it when n***as just dancing in dumb
Question the world keep your hand on your gun
This is that brand new Slow Motion n***a
Volume 2 signing out, I am done