Shook Gods Hand with a Blunt in my Mouth, Gun in my Pants Begging him to drink at my House
asking for Trouble If he aint want it then Bounce, told him the Twelve Disciples were Clowns
Why you come to Town when theyre's no punk bitches Around
We Listen to the Red-One, Line em up like Rum Shots
Rub Twats till its a Numb Box Numb Rocks
ya Dumb Cock understand we Lost Hope, Cousins -n- Uncles fall to Dope
pouring liquer pulling triggers finding bitches to Smoke
so God Whats Up Whats Good, Jesus just Leave-Us in The Hood
You can't believe-this cops try to see-us just to Seize-Us getting shook down without a Seizure taking visas and beepers so I cold shoulder Jesus