Uh (Uh)  Come on, ai, ai Boskeezy?   Ai, my, my, turn it up (burps)  Hey Boskeezy? Hey that shit right there, ay   (talk to my wepolations), that shit.   That's ibeen? That shit smibeen that shit ibeen?   That shit smibeen, ooh (ooh)    4:15 showcasing to the max  Got my truckamajig free racing causing anxiety attacks  Pitch black normal tint BOOM BAP!  Fucked around and overheated my Zues amp  500, oh the hoes, fuck a ho  These are the thing that, uh, you need to know  Bust him open spin open the duct tape and the foil  Eat the rest and get a pot and let 'em boil  Bullet proof vest never confess keep a bucket full of acid  1-800-888 zippers-on-tastic  Clinetel, raise 'em high raise 'em low  Out on bail everybody hit the floor    Chorus:  Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust,  Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust (ooh!)  Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust,   Dump, Bust, (BEOTCH!) Blast    Slurp slip, deep throat shit I'm outta sight  I like to get my dick sucked in - broad daylight  Acting bad on the soil acting tough  Break your ass down like a 12-gauge and call yo' bluff  Ignore a fool, that's what they holler  Snatch his bootsy ass up by the collar  Law enforcement agents got me and my dudes up under investigation   We hot like jalapenos  Man, how come niggas can't put their money together like Philipinos?  I suppose, can you bring him back?  He was one of them enemies that tried to participate   in Swiss Cheezin' my clean ass Cadillac  My Cadillac, My Pontiac I mean  My under bucket hoopty parked on magazines    Chorus: 2x    Check it out (check it out)  Third verse, let's begin lets be gone  I done served more water than, uh, Evian  Posted up like a thumbtack on the boulevard serving dead  Yola, ice cream, Ben and Jerry (Jer)  I've been doing somethings, cigars and pinky rings  I'm a fixture up in this shit like E-40 and the Click  Paper all up under my box spring matress choppers on top of the fridge  Automatics in the kitchen cabinets man I kill a motherfucker over mathematics  Haters gonna hate, but they don't count nigga hustle  The dope game runs on two thing (what's that?) money and muscle  Do some gotti, fourth of July your party  Laid his "supposed to be so called hardest nigga in your town"   ass down in front of everybody    Chorus: (with three overdubbed tracks of random talking)