| [Verse 1: Daveed Diggs] | |
| Ski mask on with a burner cell phone | |
| Desert Eagle 50 cal. imprint on the backbone | |
| This one is not to be tested | |
| Unless you got Smith and Wesson | |
| Quick at your disposal if not | |
| Better to head back home | |
| This is the business the uniform isn't unusual if you make killing a job | |
| Money is good when it's coming from behind prison walls for someone who need to get off | |
| Plus it'll probably be the nine to five and there is time to be outside instead of sitting at a desk and making calls | |
| And for anyone to stay alive up in the jungle you should probably figure out a way to carry no remorse at all | |
| All day long it is bombs over Baghdad | |
| Right in the backyard no service no draft | |
| No reason to go out | |
| But it's no reason to stay in | |
| When the roaches are all raiding | |
| And your neighbours bumping Black Flag | |
| Tired of living like this but not ready to die | |
| Cause he isn't notorious yet | |
| Everyone wants to be somebody know for doing something people call glorious, yes | |
| So he keep it pu*************ng through the blood and the gunning down of all the people that he knew and loved to just run out of time | |
| And the mantra that is bumping on the Walkman in the pocket probably something that's synonymous to money on the mind | |
| [Hook] | |
| It's action | |
| No time for your planning | |
| The lifespan like this fuse is too short | |
| That rocket is taking off | |
| Taking off, taking off, it's taking off | |
| Party in the sky | |
| Thug mansion was real as it turns out | |
| These gangstas ride rockets | |
| They taking off, taking off, taking off, they taking off | |
| [Verse 2: Daveed Diggs] | |
| What is in the mind of a mother******* killer when he chillin' on the porch with his daughter in his lap, peace | |
| That man just doing his job fam | |
| No demons for the damned meaning | |
| If they live in hell | |
| They can't bring it to you, you see? | |
| What's a goon to a goblin? | |
| Essentially, living in the ghetto cause the rent is cheap | |
| And the cost of living is the life you living | |
| And the life you living is the nicest giving | |
| That you ice the living | |
| That they cry for more of that good poison | |
| That hood oil | |
| That cash cow need cash now | |
| Just add water and back off of what momma taught ya | |
| Parents just don't understand, apparently always talking to Jesus, please | |
| The only God here is the Jesus piece they rocking like hipsters rock Jeezy tees, ironic | |
| Don't you think? Or don't you think about it? | |
| Stop all the thinking, instincts is how you kill a giant | |
| They might stocking up rubbers and robbing prisons for taxes | |
| Death and that *************t | |
| Everyone trying to be the king of this landfill | |
| Probably get just a hill of bodies, you stand still, you cancelled | |
| So no settling down, they hit the pedal | |
| The pen, and then pawn your metal | |
| You're drowning in exhaustion | |
| And lost in the smoke is a chokin' | |
| And unspoken, and human urge, and unprovoked | |
| It is all good with professional posture | |
| The thought stirs and murders the mother****** quicker than not | |
| [Hook] | |
| [Bridge] | |
| Meet up in the parking lot | |
| Taking off, sparking up | |
| Do that *************t again | |
| Meet up in the parking lot | |
| Taking off, sparking up | |
| Pass it to a friend | |
| Got the space*************p in the parking lot | |
| Spark a lot | |
| Take it off | |
| Do that *************t again | |
| Always chill up in the parking lot | |
| When the block it hot | |
| Taking off, ya | |
| [Verse 3: Daveed Diggs] | |
| Get fly baby, they die regular | |
| Don't want to just deteriorate on a cellular level | |
| The devil is a meddling mother****** | |
| That [?] for all these ******* guns | |
| You can bust into uncles and nieces and cousins going to war | |
| Blowing the score | |
| Pedalling pedals for more guns than a Scorsese blockbuster | |
| Bust the block, show stop | |
| Mustard to mayonnaise | |
| Make the cars hop scotch | |
| Soda, pop, cap | |
| Doesn't [?] a pound of who can rap | |
| And a pound of who can ball | |
| And the rest of ya'll | |
| Welcome to the trap get ready for war | |
| Welcome to the hood go and cover your head | |
| For the patron saint Treyvon and bring out your dead | |
| Ring the alarm under the sound is drowning | |
| And the beat it banging so hard that you can't get a shout in | |
| [Hook] |
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