[INTRO]
"Well fuck yeah, buddy!"
"Fuck no, buddy."
"Oh, give your balls a tug, you tit-fucker!"
"Wake up, you fucking pheasents!"

[VERSE 1]
Five deep in a busted ass Honda Gold
Speeding twenty over - wheels ain’t even touching road
Can’t see out the windows because I’m sitting bitch
Between my white friends; that's an anti-Oreo

Shooter hyperventilating knows the fuzz is close
Bags of money in our laps like some eighty-year-old
Movie about a band of bandits hanging on by a stitch
Robbing America because daddy wasn't ever fucking home

Ten dollars wasn’t ever gonna buy me shit
Who the fuck is supposed to live off a thousand bits?
That’s why we take what the fuck we want, then we split
Laughing at these n***as while passing with their Benjamins

The interstate ain’t as busy when the sun splits
The sky open - hoping as we drive that we blend
Reality is bending - hocking up bloody nose
Driving on that cruise control - heading to the farm, bitch

[HOOK]
What you expect from a generation born dead
Either our parents got divorced or we were force fed
What you expect from some hoodlums and some heathens
Speeding ninety through the interstate - noses all bleeding

[VERSE 2]
I ain’t want this shit to happen how it did today
It was supposed to be a heist - not a robbery
But I knew it - I could feel it in my blood
That a gat was necessary - must've caught me on a mild-day

Shit - why security awake at 03:00AM?
Why the fuck you even working for these n***as, fam
They pull you in with a paycheck & a badge
And expect you to protect them while they're sleeping in their pads

Right place, wrong time - we was sneaking slow
Grabbed the jewels out the safe and was about to blow
Flashlight strait blinded me
Pulled out the nine, dove forward, took a nightstick to the nose

All my n***as from the team rushed to the scene
This old dude had me pinned by the throat, B
Shooter grabbed the burner off of the floor
Let that shit pop - shot the n***a in the knees... geez

[HOOK]
What you expect from a generation born dead
Either our parents got divorced or we were force fed
What you expect from some hoodlums and some heathens
Speeding ninety through the interstate - noses all bleeding

[VERSE 3]
Parked the whip about a couple miles from the house
Took the bags out the cab in case we had to bounce
Put the money and the goods in the ditch
Parked the whip in the field - now my n***as strait camping-out

This the calm before the storm - I can smell the bacon
Hear the sirens getting close - now, my belly aching
I'm stone faced - cracked into a smile
When the cops drove right the fuck past - holy shit, we made it

We took the back-roads, drove hella slow
About a mile from the farm, then rolled up the windows
Stashed the car under a tarp with the bags in the trunk
And walked to crib while the morning breeze blows

We ain’t think we ever make it out alive, dude
Joking about our bloody noses, and our eyes bruised
N***a tossed me the keys to the door
And we strait geeking - we ain’t even on the damn news

[OUTRO]
"You know, I should be mad, but I'm just sorta..."
"Sad..."
"Give your balls a tug, you tit-fucker!"