[Intro]

The Crimson Chin?

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[Verse]

Mashallah!

Ya boy, he percolate

He on 'em, on 'em Percs, up late

I leave the purr-purr wasted

Defenestrate or hurdle frame

It's Murda Murda Murda Gang

I'm basted, let’s face it

I'll pro'ly keep knockin 'em back

Like I'm gaggin' on barf as I pass on carpet

I got 'em noddin', where the Narcan at?

Thinks he departin', let him pass

He'll show us where he parkin' at

You Red Sea, boy, now part in half

Sincere and flawed, I'll market that

And draw a target demograph'

And teach 'em how to dumb down, laugh

At generic brands, carrot fannin' their face

Like her hands are on my waist

Little bunny, take a taste

When I'm done, town away

Here in this game to change Huggies

Car got ballast for the druggies

Look, just like you!

In my grubby hands like putty

Dance, dance, sonny 'til you bust those shoes, yeah!

Your mistress, think I should meet her

She chew wood, I do the beaver

Toss that salad, take it Cesar

Off the 'caine like an old geezer

Give it raw, we got a squealer

On these titties, I might sleep here

Got some weasel in the speaker

Oops- can’t hear shit, click receiver

Pop your eye, go cop concealer

You a snitch? Well, I'm a seeker

Hoffa drum, so let that deter

Parasites who barely deserve

Warm body, except for fever

When I wink, I, I

I fit my hoes with the mink and zebra

Feelin' like a whole-ass kink, just teasers

Before the main, knowin' I deceive her

Pacin' for days, ya boy, he a tweaker

Got me in jinx, the drink and the divas

One second away, it all seems meaningless

Just, just

Just off a pill, I'm not mentally ill

Don't be a buzzkill, I'll get softer than silk

I pro'ly have problems, but can't foot the bill

So feed me the bills, Chuck E. Cheese ticket feeder

Clippin' my balls, fiftieth kid, couldn't feed her

Filled with the bull 'cause, the real, it is meager

Hit below the belt, I'm in Belk, lookin' Bieber

POTUS material, 'cause you know I'm a tweeter

Licking Timbs, you so silly 'til Achilles, he tore

I'm an issue when bored, finna pickle C-4

In some tula, mashallah, I got some tea we can drudge up!

Finna fuck up the vibe

Like a van of K-9

Ain't a fan of this function

May I deport myself to an is-

-land with wine, hold the cork

Stuff Dai' Tay' 'til whine, comb face with fork

That I found on a dingy with

An emaciated man who reports:

[Outro]

"Aight, um, sir

We found you on four doses of ketamine inside the Western Boulevard Chuck E. Cheese yesterday

You've been in and out of psychosis for the last few days, and

Well, while the restaurant said they won't press charges

The U.N. has decided you're not to go within twenty miles of a ball pit for the rest of your life"

Then, like, what's the point of living, man?—