[Verse 1: Domo Genesis]

It's clear to see that this is [bad word] manslaughter, bodies in the water
Beats in the casket, and preachers at your altar
Tweetin' from the sky like I'm finna land on ya
And [bad word] get pumped like Fishburne's daughter
16's'll cost ya, 20 years I'm boss(ta?)
You just in the closet, [bad word] I'm a monsta
Full blown sick, you niggas a little nausea
Snappin' on [bad word]  like what's served at Red Lobster

Rasta; but no dread-head, I'm too proper
I'm breaking down the game for you niggas like Bob Costas
Impostors; mighty Wolf Gang, you can't stop us
And I'm getting neck from your [bad word]  like dog collars
Ya'll be [bad word] #39; but I dodge it like a boxer
Weavin' like a ghetto black [bad word] gettin' primed up
Can't knock me, and besides I'm too high up
I ain't seen you niggas in a minute like Fine Dutch

It kinda feels like I'm living with my eyes shut
Walking on a dream, all the real niggas gon' rise up
Punks stay away my dro heads are like nine [bad word] 
My old heads tell me go ahead, you doing fine son
I know that you [bad word] don't like us
But you'd be winnin' if you did it just like us
It's a celebration, so I might just-
Fly to New York, sour diesel light the night up