[Verse 1: Guilty Simpson]

Peace to Vic Spencer

Yeah

I’m from the city where they’ll kill you if you’re on something

Free slave made a dash from the open dungeon

Inhale, gave my ex hell

I’m highed up and she wired up

Cause I never gave the bitch my number to my next cell

Still I exhale the grand national

Capital is how you best spell the name

I’m the shit folding paper

Like origami in a porta-potty counting change

Doctor said [?] insane, lost my marbles

[?] tocuh cargo, shell ‘em like escargot

It’s more than rap

It’s switching up to get my quarter back with pocket change

Flow magnificent, I’m ignorant

Spit nonfiction with such conviction [?]

I get busy light my phone off

You don’t wanna tussle with the black Nikita Koloff, you need Zoloft

My block’ll burn souls off

Twist my own blunts, these clowns roll with soft

Passionate pen, back at it again

Travel and spend my salary ends

Madden my kin, machine guns at that same back

Your friends put that battery in

I grab the pad and the pen

And rock to rep my nigga up

Now let the madness begin

[Verse 2: Vic Spencer]

Everything is great when you don’t give a shit

When you actually got some moments and you live for it

Pull my dick out in public, watch it piss you off

If your brain is empty I can give you thoughts

Vic Spencer is wack

When you say that shit you always go behind my back

When niggas used to beg me to get on a track

I was you nigga’s only supporter at one point that’s fact

Niggas love salt but I wanted to screw pepper

How many blondes does it take to change a diaper?

Ask Hugh Hefner

You niggas kill me with your pimip stories

The sun don’t shine and the eclipses bore me

Take it from a rapper that doesn’t give a shit

I got two kids so I ain’t saving shit

Marijuana’s a gateway drug

A gateway to what, the fridge?

Nigga I’m on my way to that shit

What’s the difference between a woman and a bad joke?

Nothing really that was a bad joke

But shit I’m an asshole

Chicago hates me, so I earned the departure

Replacing my chicks lipstick with permanent marker

Sweet ass nigga add lemon spray to crack dinner plates

I challenge a nigga in a wheelchair to a swimming race

I can’t swim, I break limbs to pieces

I ain’t them, but I create phlegm from the [?]

And that’s for real, I have yet to kill

But don’t cont me out, 17 fans gonna round it out

At your wooden roundtable

I’m cool in this cubicle

When I die I don’t wanna see you at my funeral

I wrote this shit waiting on my daughter’s clothes to dry

I write like Martin Luther King (Word)

I’m supposed to die (Damn)

I’m striking a nerve deep

And records about justice are putting me to sleep

Snoring, boring, exploring

Hit shit like Chuck Norris, soaring

In the sky nigga I’m an astronaut

I blast the Glock, fuck with V-I-C I’ll let your ass rot