[Verse 1]

Forgive me for my cuts(?)
I duck for no nuts, the robo-terrobuts(?)
My tongue is (?) with paper cuts
What's the issue? I can't lick shots(?)
I send a hundred and eighty five n***as Adam's apples to mush(?)
I (?) trippin' the (?)
Cus on my (?) French toast
Pop the (?) my verbs don't blunder, no wonder
I fuck around put people under
My nose but you can't fix my brain (?)
Back the fuck up
I smack a (?)
Swear a molesta (?) my chest (?)
I bust the phony attempt(?) with a tech
No, holds bar I think I
Trippin' to my people too much now I got pink eye
And everything I see is in a purple haze
My people don't see equal, I be callin' all my bitches
Mix-match(?) never wear a patch(?)
(?) of the Strawberry patch

[Outro]

My mind is kind of morbid, kid
My mind is kind of morbid
My mind is kind of morbid, kid
My mind is kind of morbid, kid