[Verse]
Something fly has come here
Blowin' sparkles through the chrome
Way richer than money makin'
Bitch ass shit get gone
It's put up or shut up so yeah you already know
We on it
Test it check it
Clothes don't make the man it's all inside your poems
Do it, get the boots up, and make bros get up our arms
Nigga don't you feel that it's time for the bomb?
We on it
Test it check it
Nigga don't you feel that it's time for the bomb?
(Oh, yes it is!)
Shit, what's the shape, what it cook like?
What I look like, cuttin' the air on my mic
Gunbeat sound blast from the left, so tight
Officer down, we vanish back into the night
Sunk deep in a bucket, shiny nuggets
Succeeded though we strugglin', I mean it and I love it
"Kill" is the verb, "them" is the subject
My sentence on some pimp shit
They shit was hot—or was it?
Bitch, no labels just customs
Originals are a must when productions are from bustin'
Deep in your heart you got your own moves, gold moves
Fuck with me and get the scoop
Hey, hey, hey, I got diamonds to say
And this shit goes out tomorrow how you stitch it today
So don't stop moving or the devil will know
It's a hundred styles an hour, thats how much we go

Yeah you heard fuck with me I gots the scoop
All these pop rappers up in magazines lookin' cute
Talk prose and while they pose in their white boy suits
How they got more money and more honey than me and you (Shut the fuck up)
No imagination to rock they freedoms too
Do not go to where all these followers leadin' you
Yeah we back up in the kitchen with chicken grease
Niggas that stand the heat
Yeah you can get you a piece
(Oh, yes it is)
Now get your favourite baby and ya'll get out on the floor
Get your hardest nigga and ya'll go and get some more
Get your downest rider and ya'll even up the score
Get that higher purpose that way everything's for sure
Get some real gold in your glitter man, don't study this allure
Get into your rocket ride that shit up to the stars
Let 'em know you holla black and far

[Outro]
A hundred styles an hour
Yeah we gon' win