Oldie

Yo, shout out to everybody that worked on the album
 You feel me, son? Yo, shouts out to Ty Dollas
 Shouts out to Hodgy Daddies, shouts out to Left Brizzle
 Shouts out to Domyon, shouts out to Frankie Ocean
 Shouts out to Syd the Dude, shouts out to L-Boy Awk
 Big eared bandit is tossin' all his manners
 In a bag and wrappin' them in seran wrap bandages
 Tossin' 'em in baskets with the rest of those sandwiches
 So when he says "Catch up, nigga" it looks like an accident
 Um, flowin' like my pad is the maxiest
 My bitch white and black like she's been mimickin' a panda
 It's the dark skinned nigga, kissin' bitches in Canada
 Then kicking all out like Mr. Lawrence did Pamela
 Put her in the chamber all against her Wilt Chamberlain
 I never had a Reason, nigga I was just Ableton
 Not a fuckin' Logic contradictin' dick head
 Flyer than an ostrich moshin' in a tar pit
 Semen scented cheetah printed tee
 In that 'Preme five panel, I'll repeat it for the season
 Previous items in the present
 With the normal ass past like I cheated on my team
 It's me (Tried to get that nigga, but, Golf Wang)
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 To have some type of knowledge that is one perception
 But knowin' you own your opponent is a defeatin' bonus
 I'm Zeus to a Kronos, cartilage cartridge is boneless
 Smiles of cowards in lead showers, dead spouses in red blouses
 Children who fled houses on Mustang horses and went joustin'
 I'm on my Robin Hood shit, robbing in the hood
 Whips, drugs, jewels, and your pet, I'm stealin' your rings
 Coke diamonds and your Vet, soldiers lace the fuckin' boot
 And salute like the troop when you shoot you gon' poop
 It's KillHodgy, nigga, stay the fuck off my stoop
 And out my Kool aid, Juice
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 Hodgy got the juice, I got the gin
 Jasper got the Henny, my nigga we get it in
 Wolf Gang party at the hotel
 I call a ho, you call a ho, and all the hoes tell
 You know Left Brain need a freak
 I need a bitch to go down like a Nitty beat
 Yup, uh, and her ass fat
 Don't be surprised if I ask where the hash at
 Nigga, I'm tryna smoke, bitch get higher
 Domo where that Flocka Flame? Talking 'bout a lighter
 Still bang salute me or just shoot me
 'Cause if you don't salute me then my team will do the shooting
 Yeah, my nigga Ace will pull the black jack
 The king Mike G is in the cut with the black mac
 Living like the Mafia, bitch, don't get to slacking up
 And if these haters acting up, throw 'em in the aqueduct
 Free my nigga Earl, yo, I don't really ask for much
 But two bad bitches in front of me cunnilingus
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 What the fuck is caution?
 Often I leave you flossing and cause exes next to coffins
 Lost in translation, the dreams you chase
 Got you diving for the plates like you stealing home base
 That's great, I'm home alone dreaming of two on ones
 With Rihanna and Christina Milian, bring it on
 And Travis is in the closet organizing and hanging the tramp
 Three lettermans that Ace has been making him
 No strays while we catching matinees, huh?
 I'm getting blazed thinking 'bout those days
 I had the top off the GT3 like toupees
 One finger in the air, all's fair when crime pays
 My grand scheme of things is to be attached
 To the game like bitches to their wedding rings
 And you don't even need to look cause we gleam obscene
 In the light, ride slow to my yellow diamond shining
 Like the Batman logo over Gotham, rock LA to Harlem
 If you say "Get 'em Mike G" then I got 'em
 One man squadron, nigga I'm a problem
 From Briggs I got bars and plans to
 Pimp these Polish bitches into pop stars
 Humanity kills, we all suffer from insanity still
 And if I said it then it is or it's gonna be real
 OF till I OD and I probably will, uh
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 It's still Mr. Smoke-a-Lotta-Pot, get your baby mommy popped
 With my other snobby bop, do I love her? prolly not
 Know your shit is not as hot as anything I fuckin' drop
 Bitch, I'm in the zone, stand alone, like Macaulay Cock
 I've been runnin' blocks since a snotty tot
 Big wheel was a big deal with the water Glocks
 Now I'm all grown, sing songs just to give 'em watts
 Fire what I talk, but still cooler than an Otter Pop
 Op Dom neck shit in your wish list
 Mad sick shit, mad dick for your bitches
 On some slick shit, your mistress on my hit list
 And I'm lifted 'til I'm stiff out of this bitch
 Odd in your mothafuckin' area
 Blood clots give me five feet 'fore I bury ya
 Suicide flow, let the big wave carry ya
 Tyler got the mask like he held Jim Carrey up
 And fuck your team, ho nigga wassup?
 Wolf Gang so you know we not giving no fucks
 You know me dog, I'm a chill in the cut so I can
 Cut it short, break it down, couple pounds, roll it up
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 Get me a Persian rug where the center looks like Galaga
 Rent a super car for a day
 Drive around with your friends, smoke a gram of that haze
 Bro, easy on the ounce, that's a lot for a day
 But just enough for a week, my nigga what can I say
 I'm hi and I'm Bi, wait, I mean I'm straight
 I'mma give you this wine, the runner just brought the grapes
 My brother give it some time, Morris, and Day
 Course you know the vibe's as fly as the rhymes
 On the song, cut and you could sample the feel
 Headphone bleed, make this shit sound real
 Used to work the grill, fatburger and fries
 Then I made a mil and them psychics was liars
 Now, how many fucking crystal balls can I buy and own
 Humble old me had to flex for the fogs
 Down in Muscle Beach pumping iron and bone
 Bumping oldies off my cellular phone
 Yeah, bumping oldies off my cellular phone
 Bumping oldies off my cellular phone
 Goddammit, this rapping is stupid and it's hard
 Gotta do it over and over and over again but here I go
 Hey, it's Jasper, not even a rapper
 Only on this beat to make my racks grow faster
 Got a TV show, so I guess I'm an actor
 Pot head, half baked, lookin' like Chappelle
 Rollin' up a blunt with that fire from hell
 Still ignorant, still hit a bitch
 Wolf Gang, nigga, so I still don't give a shit
 Catch me in the back with Miley on my lap
 Bong rips as I feel on that little bitch cat
 Hah, nigga came through with a 9 bar real quick
 Just for the bitches, little bit of money in my pocket
 Fuck it, Wolf Gang
 Yeah, fuck that, look, for contrast is a pair of lips
 Swallowin' sarapin, settin' fires to sheriffs whips
 (Whoosp, whoosp) fuckin' All-American terrorist
 Crushin' rapper larynx to feed 'em a fuckin' carrot stick
 And me? I just spent a year Ferrisin'
 And lost a little sanity to show you what hysterics is
 Spit to the lips meet the bottom of a barrel
 So that sterile piss flow remind these niggas where embarrassed is
 Narrow, tight line, might impair him since
 I made it back to Fahrenheit, grimey get dinero type
 Feral, fuckin' ill apparel, wearin' pack of parasites
 Threw his own youth off the roof after paradise
 La-di-da-di, back in here to fuck the party up
 Raidin' fridges, tippin' over vases with a tommy gun
 Never dollars, poppa make it rain hockey pucks
 And 60 day chips from fuckin' awesome anonymous
 Call him bloated till he show 'em that the flow deluxe
 Off the wall loafers, Four Loko, and a cobra clutch
 Vocals bold and rough, evoke a ho to pose as drum
 And let me hit and beat it with a stick until the hole was numb
 The culprit of the potent punch
 Scoldin' hot as dunkin' scrotum in a Folgers cup
 Or Nevada, drivin' drunk inside a stolen truck
 Shittin' like his colon bust
 Belly full of chicken and a fifth of old petroleum
 Supernova, I'm rollin' over the novices
 I'm roamin' through the forest and spittin' cold as the porridge is
 Stay gold till the case closed and the story end
 Post mortem porkin' this rap shit and record it
 To escort it to the morgue again, lord of lips
 Bored of this, forklift the tippy top, best under 40 list
 Stormin' the gate, ensurin' the bass
 Scorchin' ladies motherfucker sore in torso and face
 Get at me with savages, have a pack of Apache
 Indian pack of niggas who don't give a fuck if we nasty as flatulence
 As a matter of fact, your swagger is tacky
 So see me you can't like Crunchy Black catchin' a taxi
 Back like lateral passin'
 With that mothafuckin' gladiator manner of rappin'
 As an addict I let Percocet and Xannies relax me
 Fall back if your paddies is Maxi, please
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 OF, shit that's all I got
 From my bigger brother Frankie to my little brother Tac
 From that father figure Clancy to that skatey nigga Naks
 Shredding down 'Fax, Wolf Gang run the fucking block
 Storefront, knee tat
 Book cover is the same lettering on lettermans and cotton socks
 And grip tape and my shoes
 Um, I was 15 when I first drew that donut
 5 years later, for our label yea we own it
 I started an empire, I ain't even old enough
 To drink a fucking beer, I'm tipsy off this soda pop
 This is for the niggers in the suburbs
 And the white kids with nigger friends who say the n-word
 And the ones that got called weird, fag, bitch, nerd
 Cause you was into jazz, kitty cats, and Steven Spielberg
 They say we ain't acting right
 Always try to turn our fucking color into black and white
 But they'll never change 'em, never understand 'em
 Radical's my anthem, turn my fucking amps up
 So instead of critiquing and bitching, being mad as fuck
 Just admit, not only are we talented, we're rad as fuck, bitches
 ♪
 OFM, banging on your FM
 Gnaw, 2011, yeah, Golf Wang