Released: August 19, 2012
Songwriter: Crooked I Royce da 5'9"
Producer: Hit-Boy
[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9]
I'm coming from the depths of the city where sinners dwell
We finish frail niggas with shells from splinter cells
When losers win, winners fail, I'll cut your nose off
To spite your face, until you decay you can't even call your scent a smell
Mommy dragging a donkey, I'll pin a tail
I been writing so dark and for so long, my pen is pale
For the money I'll impale, your heart with twenty ten inch nails
Put a hole in your racket like I turned your tennis ball into a spinning snail
I laid off, they whole flow, on my day off I sprayed off
That fofo, then made off, with more dough then Madoff
I'm the Adolf, Hitler, of this shit bruh
No soul, my skeleton sneak
Your ho, got a hella physique
I hope she know I shoot boat loads
Bon appetit, when she get to this house
I'm a spit this out, turn a chicken's mouth to a pelican beak
Heartbeat ready, as I get done up, sloppy steady
Watch her do it, slob that knob. drop that jaw
And watch her come up, Rocsi Eddie
[Hook x4]
From the depths of the city where sinners dwell
[Verse 2: Crooked I]
I'm coming from where sinners dwell
Where ghetto America's future is poverty
We inherited Lucifer's property
They giving us niggas Hell
Choose your philosophy
Its usually hypocrisy
Lose your democracy
Nobody vote counting in 2012
So my Ruger is watching me
I move the monopoly properly
And due to this ruthless economy
I got shit for sell
Our music's anomaly
You dudes are just comedy
In lieu of monogamy
Your pooky on top of me
And I did her well, all my neighbors heard that vixen yell
The way I make that headboard quake, rate my sex on the Richter Scale
Put it in a coffin, no pillow talking, cause all too often, a bitch will tell
Only thing left on my pillow was a piece of a weave and some Paul Mitchell liquid gel
No rapper's liver, yeah, go back and find her
Nigga that mainly spit, crazy shit; prozac and fiber
No rap surviver, nigga, don't act MacGyver
When it get real in the field you a meal
No appetizer
[Hook x4]
I'm coming from the depths of the city where sinners dwell
We finish frail niggas with shells from splinter cells
When losers win, winners fail, I'll cut your nose off
To spite your face, until you decay you can't even call your scent a smell
Mommy dragging a donkey, I'll pin a tail
I been writing so dark and for so long, my pen is pale
For the money I'll impale, your heart with twenty ten inch nails
Put a hole in your racket like I turned your tennis ball into a spinning snail
I laid off, they whole flow, on my day off I sprayed off
That fofo, then made off, with more dough then Madoff
I'm the Adolf, Hitler, of this shit bruh
No soul, my skeleton sneak
Your ho, got a hella physique
I hope she know I shoot boat loads
Bon appetit, when she get to this house
I'm a spit this out, turn a chicken's mouth to a pelican beak
Heartbeat ready, as I get done up, sloppy steady
Watch her do it, slob that knob. drop that jaw
And watch her come up, Rocsi Eddie
[Hook x4]
From the depths of the city where sinners dwell
[Verse 2: Crooked I]
I'm coming from where sinners dwell
Where ghetto America's future is poverty
We inherited Lucifer's property
They giving us niggas Hell
Choose your philosophy
Its usually hypocrisy
Lose your democracy
Nobody vote counting in 2012
So my Ruger is watching me
I move the monopoly properly
And due to this ruthless economy
I got shit for sell
Our music's anomaly
You dudes are just comedy
In lieu of monogamy
Your pooky on top of me
And I did her well, all my neighbors heard that vixen yell
The way I make that headboard quake, rate my sex on the Richter Scale
Put it in a coffin, no pillow talking, cause all too often, a bitch will tell
Only thing left on my pillow was a piece of a weave and some Paul Mitchell liquid gel
No rapper's liver, yeah, go back and find her
Nigga that mainly spit, crazy shit; prozac and fiber
No rap surviver, nigga, don't act MacGyver
When it get real in the field you a meal
No appetizer
[Hook x4]