[Verse 1: Billy Woods]
Yo yo, spitamatics, you know
Kid so dope it’s illegal, we belong in a dirty needle
Fuck that, just bring the eagle plus the beretta
Yo gon’ need all your guns and all your cheddar
Cause we all know who rap better, what the fuck
You think you a competitor? You can’t even stand with this
I’m the editor, cut your lines out each rhyme
I’m on deck though I flip dimes and I stay on my P’s and Q’s
N***as watch thieves, I’m thrifty like Jews, what the fuck
I leave no clues and [?] like who, what, where
Y’all n***as can stare an ice grill but guess what
I flipped with skills

[Verse 2: Vordul Mega]
Flip with skills, living inflicted bills
Trying to get them skills up, ‘cause it’s real
Fuck where we live and the chills ducking
I’m like yo the children’s ducking in front of the buildings
What, I don’t understand why it’ like that
N***as is like yo, trying to strike caps over seas
N***a please, yeah

[Verse 3: Billy Woods]
Money when I spit, money when I spit
Like ATMS I spit them bloody gems
N***as said what, this shit don’t got seeds or stems
That’s him Billy Bodega, they call him slim
In D.C. where we feel crack, drive caprices
Yo, y’all n***as know, I fucked your nieces
What you gon’ do, I leave you in pieces, it’s ridiculous
What n***as try to do, the way we bust
You can’t handle us, we got the blunderbuss
Pointed at your chest, what you gon’ do now
Who can you trust?
[Verse 4: Vordul Mega]
You on the floor looking up, fucking with
The brothers that can’t took enough
Talk about look at hooks, look at [?]
That come like the thousand horses
Kids, ready for the bizum, we twist ism
Everyday keep the eye lit up, you know how we get up
Gotta big cup, talking ‘bout yo wig, diddy, I need money
Let’s get busy, I don’t care if he rap in my vocal
Man, bring it back to the chokehold, then take his money
And his aligators, then slide off in ill James Bon elevators
N***as is faders, getting faded all day
Yeah, yo all day, since hallways
Yo all day, since hallways
[?] blaze, still heavy

[Verse 5: Billy Woods]
It’s the lyrical terrorist, microphone martyr
Guess what, we come harder, you is conventional weapons
N***a we little boy and fat men, you shoulda come harder

[Outro: Vordul Mega & (Billy Woods)]
That for the 2000-and-beyond
(You’re not promised tomorrow)