[Intro]
I climbed through the basement window
And my leg got stuck (and it hurt)

[Verse 1]
A miniature (uh)
A miniature golf course
This is where the golf course is
Is of course the answer?
Of course the course is
With every school shooter will leave a couple of courpes' in the offices
Don't ever let the legal harrass by the officers
Kill performances, already were 100 percent
Theres more to this
Can't consent to the immortalness
We go hard, We make noise
Yeah my [?]
There's no revolting this

[Verse 2 - Elbee Thrie]
Now unless you ever thought of this because it's free
And by the way my name is Elbee Thrie
And honestly Phony P, was 'sposed to go
So hopefully we find our foot in the shallow hole
Bound to go up, in the underground
Making dope shit, since you throw us in the ultrasound
Do you hear this hit?
Yeah we make ultrasounds
You need to get high to guarentee that you'll be going down
[Bridge]
(Bitch)
[?]
[Verse 3 Temi O]
Hello hello again
The name is MIM
The super duper Martin Luther Jnr of the pen
The runny feeling in your stomache because you bit the end
We struck the ruler with the ruger pointed at your head
I'm dead
Ass or titty's? I'm a breastman
The beat
The Funk
To make you feel it in your chest damn
You in the mood for sex
I'm in the mood for quest
The part that seems appealing when you're dealing with your ex
Some people lost in space
The resturant is coming
The horns wear out
You hear the bass thumping
The keys settle in
The pollyphone is running
[?]
They call me Temi O

[Verse 4]
Ayo now stop it I ain't in the mood
Critics and everyone oppress what they interview
Success I ain't finna lose
We on a quest, for them cheques and them corvettes
To live a life somewhat better but more stressed
Probbaly more women and more sex
Drink with a lid, that money big on a small cheque
Ya'll just some kids not musicians ready to make it big
To save this generation, Yeah I ain't going yet
We just forget about the past
Cause we listen to
Some rappers about their swag and their Bently Coupe
Who is smashing and who's bad like the bitches do
Gold Yard, talking bout your lyrics n**** go hard