(Lyrics)

bo! 
double tap akimbo
I don’t fucking roll with the woods, homie
so call me billy kinfolk
grey paisley, crank Williams Jr. 
whiskey six shooters 
in the drunk tank, shank strapped to you
I smoke till I hawk .22 spitting fumes
when bucky bark mother fucker bing the spittoon
it’s no good dirty rotten scoundrels
OK corral shotgun saloon style you
shocks sent to ground you 
round house connect, next to house you  
astound you
with Baja mobility, I found you
rotatable artillery surrounds you 
they ultimately clowned you 
beatdown to brown stew 

I sent small parcel splatter delivered to Marshall Mathers
Watch your manners, rappers primin’ hammers really propaganda  
so tape or type the proper grammar that my faction after
or cop my floss & masters, billy fuckin slamed ya
(Indistinct gibberish) 

You can put them hands up 
start wilding out 
get in a fight and blame it all on your spouse 
look a rapper in the eye, smack him in the mouth 
and tell the kids what the fuck we about

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