We recording? We good? Check it this is Mad Jack coming straight to you from the Madhouse Studio

Three for the motherfuckers in the back row

I said, one for the money, two for the dough

Three for the motherfuckers in the back row

[Verse]

I don’t need fists to fight, I know your bitch is tight

She call me (Superman) ‘cause I fucked her in my (Kryptonite)

Wait 'til her new man was never new, you just never knew

Decapitate you, just to get (a-head) of you

And thats on the Madhouse, we cookin enemigos

If you ain’t down with it, then Hasta El Ratito

‘Cause mofucka’, I’ma see you, real real soon

That ass better brace for when I hit you with the spoon

‘Cause I don’t give a damn if your freestyle’s tight

‘Cause when I (comet) you, look out for (meteorite)

I’ll leave you falling from the sky, you is too bizarre

Honey make a wish, look, it’s a shooting star

I know this cat by the name of Ian Frasca

Ill spitter nonetheless, and yet he won’t harass ya’

The craziest “B,” yet you be insane to the "D"

Selling catnip to middle schoolers, claiming its weed, like shit

Ain’t like those kids gonna know the difference

If they dumb enough to cop, they dumb enough to get the shit

You see that I’m dope, in everything that I wrote

Dry as a bone when there’s a fuckin’ leak on the boat

‘Cause shit, my pen is a deadly weapon and, get to steppin and

‘Fore I jab you in the neck and head with the epinephrine

Who the fuck pass you the mic, and said that you can flow?

Call ‘em out bitch I wanna know!

[Hook]

Who the fuck pass you the mic, and said that you can flow?

Call ‘em out bitch I wanna know

Who the fuck pass you the mic, and said that you can flow?

Call ‘em out bitch I wanna know