[Intro]
Ay yo yo yo yo yo, peace to MF DOOM or DOOM or Viktor Vaughn or King Geedorah or some other shit, Metal Fingers, whatever man, it’s your boy Jonwayne, let’s go

[Verse 1]
Ayo, it’s the return of the tramp, but more styles to cramp
Than rappers in the caves rubbing on magic lamps
Asking deities to seize me, they getting needy
Your triple wish be crippled, but I’m here to take the gigs, terabytes and quids
Snacking on this beach like I’m snapping on these twigs
It’s a breeze
I call ‘em cats ‘cause they hiding in the trees
Nah, not an inch knock between the knees
Yes, please and thank you
I'm very polite, hold the mic like I’m supposed to
While I get the produce, while I get the produce
Hanky in the shirt and I’m eating rapper tofu
You can’t start beef without me, I’m seasoned, bruh
Yeah, I’m eating, I don’t even need a reason
Maybe cause I like shitting on every notion you conceive
Cause I guess dudes consider me treason, huh
They don’t like which is flawless and fearless
Call me the Pink Panther, gooning like panzer
Any questions, I’m playing 20 answers
Steer clear from Josh, dropped year after year
Appear a few years forward
I might be the king with an eye in the land of the blind
Singing with my design, playing the keys we’ll be wildin’ out
Shit, we [?] and wiping the snout
Rappers are down and out, contracting a gout
While I’m signing the contracts and I’m jacking all the contacts
Claiming to be manly men, shit
You couldn’t keep up with the Kardashians, stop it
And drop it like it’s lukewarm pussy
Please, three to five linemen couldn’t push me
I dare you to write a diss without getting gushy
How can you hate? I’m always mobbing with the goodies
Rookie under nookie and no Snooki’s, no rookies
Can ride and they gotta have those boom boom thighs
No lie, that’s where I reside
(Jonwayne special herbs medley)
[Interlude: Spoken]
This a great beat, this a great beat right here, so unique, ahead of its time, yeah, crazy, alright, alright, enough horsing around, let’s switch it up. Ghostface, jellyfish, fish scale, peace to Ghostface man (peace to Ghostface), peace to Ghostface (peace to Ghostface)

[Verse 2]
Chasing, racing against the ghost
Boost mobile in the coat
More I, vocal in the throat
Than anybody you heard as of recent
Thanks to the descent of requirement for those you call decent
They sent me, don’t even ask who
They’re looking out for you, no need to out the crew
Rappers out of work, no need to scout for food
Two tickets to see me, bring doom to the room
No MF… You’re either right or you’re wrong, no left
Your boy split up the lip like cleft
They wanna jest and talk shit?
Well, I ingested kick snare kicks and its hi-hat kids, no shit

[Interlude: Spoken]
No shit, there’s no shit ‘cause the drums so minerals and…there’s no bullshit, there’s no poop, there’s no waste (let’s keep it going)

[Verse 3]
Keep it up ‘cause I’m speaking up finally
To this culture that’s trying me
I'm giving you people a little taste like the winery
And when they hear me behind the mic to breathe
It’s like they can’t choose between
"Jiminy Cricket!" and "Criminey!" to scream
But they can’t, they ain't doing their thing
Brain falling asleep because they’re sipping on lean
Getting seizures on the screen
Baffles me that y’all didn’t learn to kick the habit after, uhm…(shh)
Let’s keep it moving like the medley
Bet 95% will turn it when it’s heavy
But now it’s just us among the many
Turn a deaf ear to the fresh, well God bless ‘em, yes
I suspect this turned to a God session
With my arms strong stretching and my word blistens
Encased inside a body that’ll keep ‘em all guessing
This white man can jump (yup)
I’m a Spike Lee joint with a little bit of Kubrick to match
Stalking in the sewers and bumping like Lex Luger
Running with the beast that’ll keep ‘em in a stupor
Jay scoop zero, call out DJ Harris and Oxwon
Oliver, Ringo, Kev, DB, peace to Dillon [?]
Everyone who helped out, your boy loves you
Don’t forgetting who to yell out (Peace to Cool [?]...)
Shout out to Sinus, switch it up so let’s do this
Oooh, if by now I’m not in your top five
Then I’mma just assume you can’t count that high
Rappers are practically dead, they ain’t about that life
Acting like I’m acting, they ain’t about that knife
Yeah I got a wifey but I ain’t about to wife
So these side hoes’ll go, there’s more bitches in Frozen
But it’s me in the kitchen, cooking up the storm
Peace to Lil B, I ain’t fucking with these norm-core rappers
Rapping in his sandals and it’s dapper
Soaking up the beat like bath water, I’m off...