Production: Imperial, Sølstice Marauder
Lyrics: Yung Salt, Sølstice
Art: Yung Salt

Verse 1:
What the fuck you mean bitch I'm with the team
Dude come and try me and I'm rippin' out his spleen
You the type of bitch that ain't got a thing
Sayin' you a real one but mommy done bought you everything
Smoking on the woods 'til I can't see a thing
Standing in the smoke all by my fucken self
Boy it's Yung Salt go ahead and put me on the shelf
Waiting for the day i fuck around and go hang myself
Runnin' thru the forest with some fucken elves
Best believe we smoking while ducking from the 12
You don't know about me, just you're fucking self
You can't say none bout me, bitch go judge yourself
Don't say I'm not real or I'm not that, bitch I pull up with a bat
You ain't ever known me like that, nope not in anyway
I just smoke every day and I'm just chilling with two BB guns i let em spray
I let em spray ay
I let em spray ay

Verse 2:
Backwoods to the fucken face, I puff em everyday
Hit the beach or kick back in the studio, don't matter either way
Light up the tip, we get lit like the end of a bolt
While riding my whip, feel the wind past my face
How it blow up, cuz I rode rough
Out the flames bitch I walk away
Dead man walking, not a stray
Back in town I bring the blade
Even though my mind has been another place
Never third though, first or second
Build a castle, I'm gon' wreck it
Kill the dragon when I catch it
Put the heart inside a basket
Roll it down the side to show I'm fucken bout it
Go prepare the caskets
Full of hope and all of you are fucken doubters
Bunch of pansies
Putting these sounds in yah head, they ain't render doe
Maybe just lay in yo bed, think bout my flow
Parasitic, to the brain
Linguistics is not your strongest game
I can tell cuz you a fucken lame with that big chain while I stay tame
Fresh cut, no nappy mane
If you got an issue step up to the plate
Cliffs of Moore I hang my feet and test my fate
Blood is running down my forehead 
Couldn't pick a better way to die

Aux Boyz