Grown man I put hands on you
I dig a hole in the desert they build the Sands on you
Lay out blueprint plans on you
We Rat Pack nikkas let Sam tap dance on you
Then I Sinatra shot ya goddamn you
I put the boy in the box like David Blaine
Let the audience watch it ain’t a thang
Y'all wish I was fronting I George Bush the button
For the oil in your car lift up your hood nikka run it
Then lift up your whole hood like you got oil under it
Your boy got the goods y'all don't want nothing of it
Like castor oil I'll Castor Troy you
Change your face or the bullets change all that for you
Y'all nikkas is targets
Y'all garages for bullets please don't make me park it
In your upper level
Valet a couple strays from the 38 Special nikka God bless you