[Verse 1: Smoke DZA]
You smell that fragrance?
You know my steez, you know my squad
You know what my name is?
The hoes call me Smokey, Rugby down low-key
Smell that strand, I mean that stench my cologne is OG
Oh, he, only talk about weed and counting loot
But what the fuck did you expect? That's what I like to do
Shit on your best outfit
And I'm on my old school Harlem, best-out shit
Who house this? I'm in your fridge about to fix a plate
Feet all over your table like I own the place
On my Calvin shit
Slide your sister, show your brother cheese
Like "Sorry Ms. Billups, we going out to eat"
I got a hustler's aura
Plus I'm a 9-11 n***a with morals
I don't owe you n***as shit, I ain't got nothing for ya
Unless you my CoDee, you don't know me, n***a blow me

[Bridge: Mad Max]
OK I'll burn the goddamn house down
But blow me first, how dare you, how fucking dare you
Rrraaarggghh

[Verse 2: Smoke DZA]
I get it in, buckets like Gilligan
Plus the riddles I riddle like I'm on Ritalin
Competition is little cause I get rid of them
I'm illa' then, whoever that you considerin'
I give a fuck how n***as feelin' bout who's hot, son
Cause opinions are like Facebook, everybody got one
I ain't into fiction, that's a James Cameron feel
I'm more like Michael Moore, what I document is real
I hate a n***a trying to give advice
Talking that killer shit and he don't live that life
Focus up, don't fuck up your day shift
Go ahead and miss me with that "back-in-the-day" shit
N***as will tell you anything, foolery
Whole lifestyle just ghetto buffoonery
I'm on your heels, n***as better pay homage
It's fair warnin' cause the game's on orange
[Outro: Mad Max]
You look like a fucking bitch in heat
And if you get raped by a pack of niggers it'll be your fault. All right?
That's my fucking mistake, because I should've woke you up and said, 'fucking blow me, bitch.'
I should've fucking woken you up and said 'blow me.' You would've liked that better, yeah?
(panting) Because you got problems, more than me
You know how to fucking push my buttons