Verse 1:

Passport stamps and runway ramps
Me and the homies old school chill, we antique lamp
Cruise the city, hit the mall probably trolling for tramps
Back to the crib sipping bubbly about old as my Gramps
Crack a dutch
Fill it up, seal in the plants
Smoking like a freight train, got a lean in my stance
Just left Bucharest, on my way out to France
Writing my rap résumé, I'm applying for grants
Chasing the cheese
Very necessary for survival
Always staying fresh, apparel aficionado
Make amends now, you ain't trying to be my rival
Dolo vigilante, I'm the games desperado
Blowing up, something like the 13th Apollo
Doomed since I'm shooting for the moon
I can make it with any tool
If the game's a T-bone and all I got is a spoon
I'mma mash it up and eat 'til I got no room

Chorus:

Life's got to be more than struggle and sorrow
Could you fight all night, knowing you'd die tomorrow?
Harsh facts, sometimes too hard to swallow
Bringing justice, minus the jury, a desperado
(x2)

Verse 2:

I'm here now to issue an ultimatum
The "artists" penning wackness and DJs that play 'em
Quit practicing this art that I and others hold sacred
Or get fried in the fire alive, don't test my patience
You don't want to see me at high noon
My flow known to claim the lives of crews like typhoons
Sharp as a thumbtack on the end of a harpoon
Confiscate your pen and pad for show in my war room
Think tank where I draw up my schemes
On 56-inch LED screens
Starbucks macchiato, wide awake in my dreams
You was popping 'til I came on the scene
But now your whole team is tumbleweed
Has anybody ever died from insignificance?
You can be first, I'll send your ma my sentiments
My verses stand forever, lyrical life sentences
Run after bread blind, end up buried next to Benjamin
Good citizen

(Chorus x2)

Verse 3:

Take ten steps, turn, draw, aim blast
If you miss then you'll quickly be a thing of the past
You see, my aim's impeccable, well above world class
Rocking stitched together hundreds for my bandanna mask
I got to
Celebrate
Each and every time I down a foe
With, chicks I barely know
The Hen and the moscato po(ur)
Doorbell rings, in comes my patna with an O(z) of dro
Everybody steaming, and mingling, getting sociable
Staying focused though
Ducking bounty hunters daily
John Q. Laws, they know my steez, want to cage me
All of these obstacles almost had me going crazy
The road to the top, looking rougher than slave feet
But I press on, guitar case and a microphone
No cross-country team, I was running them miles alone
Think twice (be)fore you mention me in songs
Ignore me and become a pile of bones in my catacombs

(Chorus x2)