[Chorus]
Hunting for the sport of it
Fucking for the porn of it
Gutter I was born in it
Hustle more than Jordan did
From poor to rich I rich porter this
Money Fortress
I went from goriest to glorious
Hunting for the sport of it
Fucking for the porn of it
Gutter I was born in it
Hustle when the morning hit
From more finished to foreign trips
With whores and Porsche whips
Corner store is lit imported bricks
The mortal Lord o' this

[Verse]
Lately I been deep in my death thoughts
Debt costs
Easily exceed what my rent costs
Been lost
Hidden like a secret in Lead vaults
Been starved
Treat the UFC like a restaurant
Cutting weight
Meaning I'm a еat you and then barf
Suffocate
Tap a GSP then I gеt Jon
Mop the floor with him
I'ma sweep 'till they swept off
Even a Batista would get mauled
By the age of 3 I was sent off
Studied a technique you would think that
Bruce Lee woulda been taught
Wrestling with bears
I'm khabib 'magomedov
The Eagles immense claws'll
Squeeze Conor's head off
Clinch force tight
No relief for the exhaust
Strength strong fight
Like the green and the red Hulk
Stretch arm right
Under cheek like a neckscarf
Guillotine dream and you rest soft
Sleep like a dead dog
How you gonna breathe wit' ya breath lost
Lungs like a sink when its gets clogged
No tap
Hear his team scream it's the ref's fault
Soon as you hear the bell ring
It should get called
You can not compete wit' the end boss
Gotta freeze screen
Just to see the feet speed of the Hedgehog
Things Willie Pep taught bob, weave, dodge
Too deceiving to get caught
Left cross swing disconnect jaw
Seen him have a seizure and then fall
It seems it's the end all
I'm King Agamemnon
Leave boxers underneath never get draws
Open wounds leak from the fresh gauze
Pulverised beef with the red sauce
Looking like the butcher shop meat
That you seen Rocky beat at his friends job
Couldn't stitch him back with a seamstress that threads cloth
Please get the red cross
[Chorus]
Hunting for the sport of it
Fucking for the porn of it
Gutter I was born in it
Hustle more than Jordan did
From poor to rich I rich porter this
Money Fortress
I went from goriest to glorious
Hunting for the sport of it
Fucking for the porn of it
Gutter I was born in it
Hustle when the morning hit
From more finished to foreign trips
With whores and Porsche whips
Corner store is lit imported bricks
The mortal Lord o' this