Uhh, they say the clock’s tickin
Mines is under my bed, yeah that’s where I keep it
I’m just layin next to some edible vagina
I’m tryin to show this bitch that I get better over time
I hope you know a gentleman issue, dependin on his mood
He’ll throw a few scraps to his ratchet fam then get in a suit
A hat and go clap at you, while you at Jidenna, oh that’s “Classic Man”
I’m givin passes in exchange for weight
And by-passes I mean gastric fam
By “pass” I mean I’ll pass, cause these niggaz groupies, tran
They givin roofies to fans, I’d rather invite over Karrueche Tran
Answer the door with some lil’ Bootsy playin
We ain’t really hearin you niggaz sittin on dubs
I got my ear to your car window, I still don’t understand
What do you be sayin? Could you please, move that lil’ piece of shit out the way
so I could take the piss? By the way
What are y’all competin for? If I could just be honest
My wifey fuckin gorgeous, and if I ain’t fuckin Rihanna
then, what the fuck I’m cheatin for?
If this movie I’m livin’s for your viewin pleasure then I can’t really be no whore
Cause they don’t make ’em like me no more

They don’t make ’em like me no more
Yeah, that’s opportunity knockin
I’m standin where it might be your door
To say to you that they don’t make ’em like me no more

May God bless anyone against this conquest, y’all hire muscle like I’m pressed
Like I ain’t out here walkin ’round like I’m a one-man arm press
I’m just in the zone
I said “less talk,” not “let’s talk,” let’s just get it on
Who the best out right now? Just get ’em on the phone
Tell him I don’t want much, I just wanna tell ’em that I plan to come and kill ’em
I’ma probably talk to him soft like Liam Neeson like I’m bein decent
I’m PRhyme, I’m Slaughterhouse, I’m B.M.E.
I’m sorta like ‘Pac in the vest, I got no fear in me cause, I done been to hell and back
So many times that I think I’d seen the smile on the, face of the reaper
So don’t waste your time prayin to your creator
Too late, he can’t make ya like me bruh

Nah, they don’t make ’em like this no more
That’s opportunity knockin
I’m standin there like this your door
To say to them that they don’t make ’em like this no more

This ain’t the standard ops you niggaz done ran across
I’ll send my little man across
the street, he’ll stop squeezin ’til somethin pops
into your head like a random thought
I don’t care for drama
I’d rather terrorize you, chase you ’round your city like you Sarah Connor
and I’m the Terminator, I’m wearin Ferragamo
the same time that the devil’s wearin Prada
Why would you and I compare albums?
I got your life in the palm of my hands, layin it down is all I’m thinkin ’bout
And newsflash, niggaz is frauds, it’s all a act
When he tough with the talk, he don’t go out in traffic, he know I’ll slap him
He know I’ll snatch him, out of that box he lives in he calls Abby
He know I’ll stuff him back in that box that I put niggaz in called casket
It ain’t nothin to squash, don’t call my line with that wack shit
You wanna get to the bottom of that? Call “Catfish”
Now let me get back to what I was doin
This hundred-round drum turns around time in mixed months
St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, March Madness wrapped in a big blunt
Let’s smoke the niggaz who really live it
who know what beef really is and don’t speak if it really isn’t
Got niggaz doin life in the prison on the iPhone
and the cordless and I live in the No-Fly Zone
And more digits is all that I got my eyes on
I see you clowns through the eyes of the Lord
I’m lookin down on, I’ll be around for your rise and your fall
You rhyme, what’s more mind-blowin than a 9 to your jaw?
Even a weak flow could be nice
I’m takin penitentiary chances, we roll the dice like the Migos in Vice
You want these hoes and likes
Me? I’m the one there’ll be no one like