[Intro: Youngman]
One, two, in the place to do (P-pop!)
Here we go

[Verse 1: Youngman & milo]
I regret to inform you of your imminent demise
Men put your phones down, look your women in the eyes
Understand, let go your old plans (doo-doo)
Children hold hands, your new role demands that if you
Gotta lick a shot (bbrrrrr), then aim for 6 o'clock
At least put it 22 when it jumps and hits the spot (d-ddooo)
...an idiot could do it
Nice life. Be a shame if something happen to it (what what)
This solves nothing (nothing!)

[Verse 2: milo]
True, just thinking on the master plan
Steez drip like Faygo off the hatchetman
Burst into tears like Steve hearing Pile in Malden
There's a balm in Gilead, use it often
Syncopated Saturdays fill me like a coffin
Spit it like Zadie Smith with a Jay-Z lisp, or like
J.Z. Smith, you can take your pick
The point is my vocabulary pays my rent