[Intro: Grafh]
Gang shit (woo!), ay, wassup? My name Grafh, ho
Team Bang, doe, gang with a thang, ho
Trust, haha, ay
Thirty-thirty eight special, 38 Spesh
Thirty-thirty eight special, 38 Spesh
Thirty-thirty eight, 38 (blrrrt)

[Verse 1: Grafh]
Ay, you n***as want views instead of talent
Hot or cold, you cook up the soup instead of salad
But you choose what you think is the truth instead of valid
Trill n***a, more DJ Screw instead of Khalid
On my “We The Best” thang
But I’m all Young Jeezy in a BMF chain
I’m all big body Benz in that CLS thang
Thousand grammys of white girl on a PMS thang
I’m all the one to bust in your boo face, crazy
She wiping her eyebrows down - Blueface, baby
Yeah, aight, I move way crazy
I say “trap”, you say “bakery”
I’m a movie, I’m Blu-ray wavy, you a bootleg
Adieu, bae, grab me the souffle; in the stu', stay gravy
I am Marcy Projects bricks in a suitcase, Jay-Z
You can’t new-age play me when Kool-Aid raised me
I’m from the era where the fiends used to two-way page me
‘Cause I proved the heroin age do make babies
Touche, my dope the color of D'usse, baby
From Tuesday to Tuesday, baby
What up, doe?
[Verse 2: Cory Gunz]
I’m one of the popular lesser-knowns
That inspired a deck of clones, with enough fire to stretch your bones
Who trying to fetch your loan? You’re throwing rocks, not checking homes
Before I catch a stone you’ll catch a chrome
It’s always a n***a with the reckless tone
Get ran down, want to check his phone
Get wet when the vex is shown
I grew up where it’s not an exit [?], but move where a lot of jets is flown
Improve here, a lot of sets get stolen, shoot fair, a lot of vets get thrown
From roots, fear none of your threats, I'm grown
'Cause truth is, for necks and domes I’m hitting harder than your ex-bitch phone
It’s like a gangbang soon as I bang-bang
Just when you thought she was over is when all of the rest get blown, n***a
My role model was a dusthead
My other ones I can’t talk about are just dead
She got a n***a but that’s not what her butt said
Opposite of blue balls, she ride 'til my nuts red
I’m a mental, sick n***a with a flushed head
And you pencil-dick n***as wouldn’t bust lead
Fuck the top of the charts, long as eggs on top of the cart, I ain’t never mind crushed bread
I sleep something then I just bed
Forget about it quicker than what I just said
I just hear the door slam and the truck sped
It’s real when even n***as with luck bled
She want to get in a sandwich ‘cause I touch bread
But I ain’t trying to get jammed bitch, just spread
[Outro: 38 Spesh]
Huh, and that’s how you motherfuckin’ rap, man
Shout out to Grafh and Cory Gunz, man
I appreciate y’all coming through, Trust
Huh