[Verse 1: Maximilian]

Stitch the NASA patches, into the Rats jacket
Slappin' Kid Cudi with the RATATAT backin' I'm back at it
Catching happiness in a fast minute since last winter
When my head smashed in that black Civic, and
Not trash but I'm what's dropping in the litter
And them cats dig it, I'm not kitten
Smashing baddies with bass hitting, and the, windows is mad tinted
Shorty's catholic but she's mad sinning when you begin cash spending
Arrogant ad-libing and synonyms abstract
Dino stash Human tees and trees in his back pack
And we catching cataracts for a Kat Stacks
You know the type that's quick to pass that ass back then ask where the cash at?
Back back, I'm strapped with dad's gat
Packed in Bape knapsack next to Samurai Jack's dagger at
Matter fact I'm Midas with the slightest tap and the track's yelling (TOUCH ME!!)

[Verse 2]

And I'm.. snoozing in a Humans tee
Tuned into the Goonies see, I
Don't get out much pupils glued to the movie screen
Keep 'em shut from The Shining, enthused by a Kubrick scene
Dudes feud with my music but it's fuchsia in ya moody ring
.. luminescent whenever the mucus fling
And uhh... if I die in a minute, remember me as Bart Simpson
Copped a half a mil' house just to spy on your sister
With no assistant my words Burns say bi to Mr. Smithers
Bread is nice but my Homie said the Marge's still bitter
And I want to stop logging into Twitter
But my relevance is eminent the blogs don't feel ya..boy
Cold as cryogenics on 9th planet, my Miami Annie
I stick the fingers in and she might come in handy
Now get it? Im snatching snitches like Quidditch
I'm Narcissus mixed with Syd Viscous
Kiss This, I'm trying to dig in a miss britches
Then dip in kitchens to fix some sandwiches
I got the scholarships but.. spent it on Diamond and Dollar prints
5 Basquiats and ox moccasins
No fucking common sense but ain't no fucking consequence
I'm young and fucking cocky, confident, and fucking talking shit!
Father's pissed cause I'm rocket-shipping pass the college shit
And landed at the opposite of pocket lint with a lot of it
And my conscious is stopping me from flaunting
But don't let me get that yacht I'm docking in Obama's offices
Can't stand that I'm back? Well, how preposterous
Now arch your back pretending I'm fathering Kate Moss' kids
Don't let me get more in depth
Cause I'll continue to flex more than your morning reps
And I'm mourning for the next, and forewarning for the rest
And that's all you fucking get