[Hook]
Pen on paper, that's what I do
Spittin' lyrics in my best friends booth
Silly bitches stuck in the loop
I scream 'fuck you' if you disapprove
My fans in the crowd, hands up
Fans in the crowd, hands up
Fans in the crowd, hands up
Fans in the crowd

Pen on paper, that's what I do
Spittin' lyrics in my best friends booth
Silly bitches stuck in the loop
I scream 'fuck you' if you disapprove
My fans in the crowd, hands up
Fans in the crowd, hands up
Fans in the crowd, hands up
Fans in the crowd

[Verse 1]
Psycho parkway, hey bitch I'm back
Brain damage like meth and crack
Looking at my future like
God damn man I need to get them stacks
Locked down in my room with
Some notebooks beats and 2 fifths
Think about my career and I
Notice that I haven't proved shit, so
Time to step up my grind
Lately I waste too much time
And I need to get back to my rhymes
Cause I know damn well this world is mine
Spit fire, suns core
Don't believe it? Bitch, hit the door
My team loud, and my fans loud
We gonna rock until we hit the floor
Green light go, bitch you know
When I grab that mic you better drop it low
Exposed like the Truman Show
No holds barred, anything goes
Killing shit since 96
Hot as hell, I'm devilish
But still cold as my persona
And I'll break you cause I'm a rebel, bitch go
[Hook]

[Verse 2]
Bottles popped, they turnt up
10 whole grams got burnt up
Fuck whoever disagrees because
They don't concern us
It's a long ass road I'm walking on
With obstacles like Donkey Kong
Rip this shit like a stoner's bong
Cause I'm made for this, you can't tell me wrong
I got about two years of my life left
So I'mma give this shit my fucking best
Stealing fans, that's grand theft
Young forever, I banned death
Mercy's what these rappers need
I'm charging all, like a bull stampede
Girls still screaming Frosty, please
I'm busy bitch, get off your knees
Hold me down, cause I'm going off
Lyrical miracles don't stop
Half you rappers make me sick
Hey Dr. Carter, *cough cough*
YMCM Bitches
I only listen to Drake
Half you rappers making buck, but
All you faggots fake, so
[Hook]

[Verse 3]
Call me clutch, I rock the beat
Pussy MCs, come taste defeat
A lot of you guys are mostly weak, so
Go ahead and pass that throne to me
Like Drew Brees, I'm going deep
Talk shit, bitch, get put to sleep
Downtown 615 we swish all night
Like Kobe Bryant's threes
I keep my dreams on padlock
Hating bitches, hop off my jock
Like Twisted Sister, I wanna rock
So let me in, knock knock
If you fuck with me, then stick around
I'm on the rise, I want the crown
In too deep, I'm about to drown
So I'mma hold my breath
And not go down
School just didn't do shit for me
Sick rhymes in my inventory
For those who aren't aware of my fucking story
I'm doing all I can to do to taste the glory
Broke yes, but I'm still living
Cause one day, I'mma be winning
I dream big and I stay grinning
Frosty V is in the fucking building, hands up
[Hook]