[Intro: RXKNephew]
(We will get you killed)
Me and Christ got a new label, Fentanyl Records
Don't make pull up to the DistroKid headqu-
Me and Christ got a new label, Fentanyl Records
Don't make pull up to the DistroKid headqu-
Me and Christ got a new label, Fentanyl Records
Don't make pull up to the DistroKid headquarters (What the fuck)
Fucked eleven AM, and kicked her out noon
I got new fentanyl, it's comin' soon
(This song is terrorism)
Yeah
(Based Negative Squad)

[Chorus: RXKNephew]
Girl, I want some head while your panties down
I'm here to get money, got grams out
Gucci frames on my face, that's why I stand out
Tell that n***a, "Calm down," knock ya man out
Eight-hour drive made me eighty thousand
Right from the trenches, girl, that's why I'm wildin'
Rick Owens on my body, I don't need a stylist
How you much you got? Pay for it, ten thousand

[Verse 1: RXKNephew]
Top down Z06 when I pulled off
You know the price for the drugs, just don't piss me off
N***a broke as hell, I don't wanna talk to you, we don't get along
You can call me Mr. Fresh as Shit or Mr. Been Ballin'
Your jewelry fake as hell, fall off like Ace Hood
It's tatted on my head, baby, I'm from a real hood
Got an old bitch who bad as hell, look like Megan Good
Run you over F-150 like the new Suge
N***a, CHRIST DILLINGER got six bedrooms
He like, "Neph, to the left, that's the head room"
Uncle Elroy, that's the boom-boom room
Brodie got a mask on his face, n***a think he DOOM
Fucked eleven AM, and kicked her out noon
I got new fentanyl, it's comin' soon
Me and Christ got a new label, Fentanyl Records
Don't make pull up to the DistroKid headquarters (Holy shit)
I made five-hunnid thousand through DistroKid
Who the fuck is you to tell me don't pop my shit?
I feel like JAY-Z, can I live?
We was so hungry, they could see our ribs
Brand new watch like Ben 10
[Verse 2: CHRIST DILLINGER]
Clock on my wrist damn near bigger than the Big Ben
And these Balenciaga's on me cost bout twelve-fifty
I used to start my break at ten, come back at twelve-fifty
Every time I step into that kitchen, got that heat wit' me
Walkin' in the party wit' my shooter, look like Yeat wit' me
Labels keep on blowin' up my phone, they wanna speak wit' me
You gon' have to add another zero just to meet wit' me
The only label that we signin' to is GetYouKilled
If you come through wit' the right amount, then we can get you pills
I tell that bitch to call her ex and get his credit card
Way before I was sellin' records, I was sellin' hard
Cocaine look like Megan Good, it's 'bout to stomp the yard
I told that girl you ride wit' me, you gotta take a charge
We got more coke inside the greenroom than Bruno Mars
For that brand new Saint Laurent she eat the dick up in the car
I'm the one that brought the Xanax bars inside the bar
I feel like I'm Lil Peep because I raised the bar
And you ain't even gotta push us n***a, you can get robbed
I'm just like Kramer on Seinfeld, never had a job
This n***a Nephew got six houses all in different codes
We shoot the fuck up out your block in cars wit' different modes
I got bitch that look like Kylie Jenner mixed wit' Amber Rose
I got like fifteen different bitches when I hit the road (Holy fucking shit)
So many attachments on my gun, look like Phil of the Future
This bitch on Molly, Percocet, this bitch think she Future
This bitch sell pussy out a traphouse that ain't got a bed
I'ma be like XXX, droppin' after I'm dead
[Chorus: RXKNephew]
Girl, I want some head while your panties down
I'm here to get money, got grams out
Gucci frames on my face, that's why I stand out
Tell that n***a, "Calm down," knock ya man out
Eight-hour drive made me eighty thousand
Right from the trenches, girl, that's why I'm wildin'
Rick Owens on my body, I don't need a stylist
How you much you got? Pay for it, ten thousand

[Outro]
(Crack Rock Records)
(Opp genocide)