Mane, what the dang friggin heck!
Is you paid, hops?
They be like "Dylan, what you doin' for your day job?"
I get it snappin with that hollow action
That'll leave you in a state of not ever being able to face swap
Have ya lookin like the aftermath of Santeria
Sad to see go, but even more I hate to see you breathing
Bleed the county out
With the slaughter
Swine father built a concentration camp for pigs
Cause I hate cops
Yeah, you see me pullin out the royal conservatory of breakin' hoes
All I wanna do is count
Rozzy risky like a loaded muzzle loader
And you can't help but avoid that you ain't shit
Staring the barrel down
Fetch me musket
Yeah, I gotta touch it
I gotta touch em' with the hatred, in broad day, in public
Who the fuck want what?
Who really want it?
Who gotta death wish?
Who wanna get buck with
Me?
Baby Baby D, oh how I love you so
Ever since I heard you go
Off the wham, break down the doe
Straight up out the gate, with nothin but hatred for a stupid hoe
Kill me to stop me, but it still won't stop my killin spree though
Dylan is mean, so mean
Dying to get to the green
Don't care if I get rich
If I can still do sadistic things
No, I don't pistol play, the pistol is wishin' things
And, bitch, I'm the wish master, blastin' on inferior beings
It was 1987
When the crack really started to rain down
Heavy, from heaven
In '88 and '89 and '90, makin' a killin
Then in '91, somebody pushed a 50 rock, named Dylan
Must I bust, instant rush, kappa crackhouse
You ain't got no credits left, hoe, you maxed out
Got the game sewed up like a transgender
Final bozz Rozz bout to bring the gauze packs out
Straight snapped out, with my baby mama out in Castro
Then the DEA kicked down the damn doe
We were watching PBS, and she was breastfeeding
Then the men with guns and masks came in
The baby started screaming