[Intro: Styles P]
[?] the machine on the boards
Throw that shit up, [?]
Tell Lou bring some more of that brown water here
D-Block, everything’s lovely

[Verse 1: Styles P]
Go get it from the get go
Sure n***a, but throw a stiff jab like a Klitschko
I don’t want to box, nor draw a pistol
Ha, I’m just being wishful
If it’s going down, let it go, dog
I ain’t just rapping, I was a menace before O-Dog
Used to be bundles of dope, now it’s bundles of hope
And the big 45 when I doze off
Mobster, mad dog colt bite your nose off
All this blood, and I don’t feel a thing
Ghost come around, n***a, don’t say you’re king
Don’t say you’re the best or something gon’ ring
It won’t be a bell, it’ll probably be a shell
You’ll be eaten like pasta, fuckboy, go to hell
Fuck the new n***as and the old n***as too
Tell them all to suck a dick is what a bold n***a do
Treat them like toilet paper, you can roll n***as through
And watch them get shitted on
‘Cause this is for n***as in the streets
And the n***as in the cell with the 25 to L bout to get it on
Yeah I know about the ox works
Hustling like it’s clockwork
Yeah we run the city, but we ran from the cops first
I was trained for the manhunt
Southside, seven years old, playing Manhunt
I don’t like trash rappers, you gon’ get your man done
We could pay for the work, we don’t need your man fronting
Fuck about the plug, he could end up in my man trunk
It’s like that ‘cause it’s like this
N***as get killed on the day and the night shift
Grimy n***as will leave you lifeless
All they care about is indictments and the prices
Ghost
[Sheek Louch talking]
This beat is stupid
Feel like we should have this fucking Premo beat, man
I got ‘em

[Verse 2: Sheek Louch]
You ain’t never liked me, n***a, pardon my French
Now I am the shit, you got to pardon my stench
Starting 3, n***a, never the bench
I rock Louch, stay in the trench
I could put my lyrics in the ground and grow you n***as
Hip-hop gym star, I could blow you n***as
Really think about writing a book to show you n***as
But I rather you learn on your own
So who the fuck want to die? Not a lot of shots this accurate
Turn your skin green and yellow like Packers get
Styles say shoot ‘em, not thinking twice
You gon’ hear that shit echo like Greg Nice
Kicking like a fortune teller
Had base on the block by the name of Old Yeller
Now I’m with [?] way out in Coachella
Donny n***a, Ponzi scheme flow
You’re Adrian Broner, I’m Tyson Riddick Bowe
Take it off safety and let that shit go, n***a

[Outro: Sheek Louch]
This n***a’s a beast, man
[Scratches]
“All they care about is indictments and the prices”
“All they care about”
“Grimy n***as will leave you lifeless”
“All they care about is indictments and the prices”