[Verse 1: Twisted Insane]

Born and raised in California the city of the stoner

Pushin' a whip up on a bitch and when I hop in I be on her

And they blow my phone up, never really did when I was a bum

Now I become hot as Arizona

Post up in a bucket all night saying "Fuck it!" 'cause I really got nowhere to go, and I was broke and homeless

That's way too many then, see, I was penny-pinching

I could not afford to pull up in a Honda Accord with the chrome ones

Mixin' the women with the wicked and the alcohol

Fuck it, you could spend it homie, we about to ball

Sick of all these rappers that be actin' like they rapping tight

But really half them people wasn't saying shit at all

Go ahead mothafucka, talk about your ice

You in Lamborghinis, we don't even got a ride

Sick of the ones that always talk a lot about the shit they got

When other niggas come around they often run and hide

You can probably find me somewhere in the alley gettin' high

Drinkin' all my life away as time passes by

I could've been in medicine

I could've been a president

I wanna ask the Lord but shit why, ask why?

Four racks in my pocket from the Mayweather fight

I made a grip, and finna bet nobody smacking a homie

Bought a Honda, weed and gang of swisha sweets

Some new Chuck Tees, a couple T's, and a slice of Bologna

God Damn! Never really couldn't manage myself

They say I'm schizophrenic, man, I really need help

I told you it's the voices that be talking to me, giving me subliminals

That's how you make your faces all melt

Little nigga wanna trip, I will unbuckle my belt

And get to whooping on 'im in front of his girl, I'm a devil

Rippin' mothafuckers into pieces, now the nigga pray to Jesus

Really ain't no other rapper on my level

[Verse 2: Rittz]

ILL Smith, fuck a Fresh Prince

Murder every rapper in the game and left prints

Homie, let's dance

Being fresh put me on, I felt like it's my last chance of making a haters wanna hide the dues and be friends

Let's hide all my cynical

A product unidentical; rappers talking a lot

They biting but they bite is just miniature

To me you don't resemble a G but you keep on talking lot

I'll stomp you out and put a Nike emblem print on you

Anyone messing with my crew might get pushed to finish you

And end your career

I've been loose but I'm winnin' this year

A lot of suckas' actin' like a bunch of women they scared

They swear they hard but start to tremble when the pistol appear

I'm [?] I'm writing, eating Xanax, Atlantis, a lot of strippers

I bet you wish you was here

85 pound drunks out here pissing their pants

Turn on the radio and it's this the right station, it’s weird

I hear rappers singing RnB [?]

While I’m in my Cut Supreme with some green

Sucker free, on the weed

I got in anything you need

Give a scream down the street

Speakers beat like I put you under meat mallet

While the beat riding I got the blow and got the bars

Close to overdose and I just hope I see tomorrow

Nobody really cared when I was broke and 'bout to starve

So why should I give a fuck whats up with Khloé and Lamar!?

'Cause they got a grand problem

Nerds on the internet be talking mad blogging, I'm bout to snap on em

I'm fixing to bust his head and there'll be a black coffin

This rapping shit don't work, I'm in a black mask robbing

Mock it, think the spittin' shit's lame

Johny, stop! No crossing over, can't get in this lane

Two of the best that ever did it Rittz and Twisted Insane

Taking over this game, so remember his name: ILL Smith

Bitch, yuh-uh-yeah