[Chorus: Hopsin]
These hoes go crazy, when they see me pull up (You know)
Tryna strip my money
But I can be wrong, I might be wrong (Yeah)
Throw your dubs up for a Westcoast player
The way we stuntin' on your hoes, it's just no fair
What up bitch, keep the blunt lit, tell 'em we run this

[Verse 1: Hopsin]
I'm ruthless, but hit the club feeling so restless
Reckless, y'all forgot to put me on the guest-list
F this, I don't need the club, shit I'm cooling up
Watch me pull the next dime piece I see pulling up (Ayy ho)
Still raw when I rappin' on the mic
Catch me actin' up mashin', prolly macking on your wife
Gimme your nasty hoest dyke, who look gaggin' on the pipe
But they tryna set me up, like my ass was Obie Trice (shit)
A lotta hoes are known for game, shit they'll blow your brain ([?])
They have you give them cash, nice whips and the whole shebang (Bang)
It's a sunny day, bitch, it ain't supposed to rain
Now bend over like the hunchback and ultradian
I'm an asshole as rascal
We be pulling mad hoes, and fucking 'em 'til they back broke
Then hit the studio and crack jokes
Maybe smash flows, I spit the fire until the track smoke (Come on)
[Chorus: Hopsin]
These hoes go crazy, when they see me pull up (You know)
Tryna strip my money
But I can be wrong, I might be wrong (Yeah)
Throw your dubs up for a Westcoast player
The way we stuntin' on your hoes, it's just no fair
What up bitch, keep the blunt lit, tell 'em we run this

Check it out baby, this what I want you to do

[Verse 2]
[?] in the G-P-S navigation
You're the location, I'm your destination
Call the Crustaceans and a make a reservation
The radio station, playing this dedication
Back to back in rotation, live syndication
Tonight this is celebration, no limitation
No expectations, no indications
Little conversations, smoke inhalation
Slow installation, don't rush the situation
We got all night (All night), I'ma do it right (Do it right)
I'ma keep working at it, 'til I get it right
I'ma buss it wide open if the suit tight

[Chorus: Hopsin]
These hoes go crazy, when they see me pull up (You know)
Tryna strip my money
But I can be wrong, I might be wrong (Yeah)
Throw your dubs up for a Westcoast player
The way we stuntin' on your hoes, it's just no fair
What up bitch, keep the blunt lit, tell 'em we— (Good God, good God)