[Verse: Pilot]
Ashby road, bumping Max B flows
With Apache hoes in the cameos
With the panties moist, got a raspy voice
When we pack these joints
Laying up with shorty, but don't lack three points
From half court, mad chores, verse dirty
Like sandstorms in my mud pie, tongue-tied, shorty still flirty
I guess she feel worthy, tornado spilled my slurpy on the turntable
First snake hole I stepped in jacked my left sneaker
Left venom samples, made the theft sweeter
Thinking back when Grandma would get seizures
Makes Mom feel the blues even in red T-shirts
Catch Z's with Caesar, soul roaming, wounds open, tomb open
For bodies, to clone this and copy is to give me my only worthy opponent
Honeys trying to swap genes, giving up punani for a bonus
Or at least a bonus track, them audio clips is crack
Walk off cliffs and I get saved only to walk into a trap
Thoroughly mapped out from the trap house
I just want to body those snares and claps
The way them cheeks can clap, I'd think I'm having standing ovations, but she's sitting on my lap
Ready to ride me and fastened her seat belt
Any further details will make heat melt, so I'll continue to let my flows overlap
You posers is whack, yeah you posers is whack
Pulverize with the hand I'm dealt with no poker face
Need closure when you close your eyes, want to open them to see your soldier's face
But he's in a better place, yeah he's in a better place
Told him he was the last supper that seven ate
It all depends on what direction you count
Devils refuse to bounce and you can't maneuver out
There's only one way out when entering Ashby Road:
Join the turf owners, helping snatch these souls