"Good to me" x 4
"Fine" x 2

Verse (Frank):
Mama I'm the man that I promised, standing hand in nuts
Stranded on the land that our mamas fell on when our papas told'em "hit the dust"
Polished my phonics, smoke puffing out my comments
White folks choking on vomit, Monticello is the devil's dutch
F**k the proper, be a prophet. Don't prophet on no cause & better not blow up you gon pop it
Don't grow up no no no no stop getting bitter, quivering, & coughing
You dropping off of that cliff? Better grip it like you gon c*ck it
I been clocking back at 12 now, pack weigh like 12 pounds
8th of the caps made me think I'm going to hell now
They banking that I settle down, but I will not stop
Till every single white felon in my Cell get heads chopped
Take a head shot, see if it'd pop or start bouncing
Boy I'm chilling till I call a parent pop without me mispronouncing
Them rebel rags making bullet blouses
Call another little boy a fag & Imma beat your mouth in
No mincing my words, don't mention my thousands
Mind your f**king business. If you think you hate me now
[Freestyle:] Then when I pull all up in Jimmy Fallon
With this f**king town in my pocket and start talking
You gon wish you wasn't f**king drowsy