[Intro ad-lib: Trey 40]
Call yo mama!
Aye these boys finna murder all y'all

[Verse One: Dakoda Rollins]
I never sell my soul for sold out tours
Unlike these artists getting ghostwriters from ouija boards I'm just dopeness at a pinnacle
Talent so continual
God closed a few windows to build me a revolving door
I got an ear for the beats it's so unreal
And all my peers are just van Goghs and Holyfields
Holy smoke and he still flowing dope and he kill snipe any beat in the grassy knole with a scope of skill
Think he won't? He will!
But don't shoot the messenger.
Take it up with the yes men who been lettin' ya
Think you got the next illmatic
The world ain't yours, I been had it
A new york state of mind?
No, a Texas state of havoc
Bump platinum with no features
Want diamond with no leeches
Want mansions with no payments?
Expression without enslavement
Want me to stop rapping?
Need y'all to stop rapping
Barely picked a chorus, picked a casket and a florist for ya, ugh!
Oh, you didn't know?
Your better call somebody
New Age Outlaws with an old school way of catching a body

[Verse Two: Cowboy Mugshot]
They tell me to move to LA
Dobrek!
They told me to move to LA just so I can make it big
Doing all these drugs so I can kick it with these famous kids
You can't get anywhere without caring what you're wearing
Or paying all these bullshit motherfuckers to be transparent
Everybody looking famous but nobody know what their name is
Man this lifestyle is contagious, I'm an addict call me shameless
I don't even care 'bout your motherfucking parents
Tell me what I'm wearing is scary, it's all devilish
Treble shit, get on my level bitch. I'm malevolent
Suck my dick you're irrelevant. On my trunk like an elephant
Feeling like a motherfucking feminist; highly venomous
Kinda villainous, body like a simonist
Got a snapback and a backpack
And I clap back 'cause the ass fat like cash app

[Verse 1 Reprise/Hook: Dakoda Rollins]
Oh, you didn't know?
Your better call somebody
New Age Outlaws with an old school way of catching a body