Tempura

Long hair, don't care, bitch I don't give a fuck

Open me up in a new window

Talkin' 'bout that bong sharing lawn chair chillin' in the kitchen

Scrim is whippin' up the dope while I'm playing Nintendo

Slit my lymph node, five nine stay in the dark

Fuck the limelight, bitch, that's my kinfolk

Been throwed since '94

Dick throwed a little bit to the left till I find the right hoe, oh

Really though I hate when corny mother fuckers say they got a sick flow

Sounded like Carl Winslow, bitch I'm spittin' dead snow

That's a good movie, we can watch it

We can fuck and then you can go to bed, ho

Bitch, turn off the lights, I can still see the glow

Keep it up and I'ma take you home

Crib like an igloo, bitch, that's why they call me Young Snow

It's that Young Pharaoh blowin' on that Sarah sparrow

Eyes looking narrow

Sippin' lean with a sombrero

Rio de Janeiro paint on my fucking Chevy

Riding around with a bitch that look like Lil' Debbie

Now tell me what you know

Young Vincent Van Gogh

Lil John Mcenroe

Put the blade to my throat, it's that suicide

My manic depressive and gun on the dressed mind state

The psycho professor, the demon possessor

But nevertheless, a soul mate

In a grey state

Watch me raise the crime rate

Welcome to Hell's Gates, bitch

I'm that flaming dragon, seven head and draped in satin

Speaking tongues in Latin

Young death, lil famine