Yeah, we back Back in Muhammad crib, nigga, top floor The back room with just the one little small window, nigga The light be comin' through it in the morning Old-ass walls and shit But it's just like I remember, just like I wanted it Yeah, I'm workin' Yeah, I'm workin', nigga Look, it's the return of the Mr. Burn Suckers Not herpes infested, just perfectly blessed with A style that you can't F with, protection recommended ‘Cause Cole the definition of a weapon that can end it You know, mass destruction when I mash the button I take your favorite major rapper, left him independent Cryin' in the corner ‘Cause I ain't into sorta kinda, dissin' niggas I'm borderline addicted to slaughter Line up niggas in order Of who you think can really fuck with me most Then I tuck the heat close, if he don't duck then he ghost Ain't no need for discussion If they weren't talking 'bout the bread These motherfuckers be toast Clap at the fake deep rappers The OG gatekeep rappers The would-you-take-a-break-please rappers Bunch of words and ain't sayin' shit, I hate these rappers Especially the amateur eight week rappers Lil' whatever—just another short bus rapper Fake drug dealers turn tour bus trappers Napoleon complex, you this tall rappers Get exposed standin' next to 6'4" rappers The streets don't fuck with you, you Pitchfork rappers Chosen by the white man, you hipster rappers I reload the clip, then I hit more rappers with that Straight shittin' on these piss-poor rappers, I'm back Never knew a nigga that was better Revenue, I'm good at gettin' cheddar Reminisce on days I didn't eat If it's meant to be, then it'll be If it's not, then fuck it, I'mma try Ain't no need to ask the Father why, no ‘Cause one day everybody gotta die One day everybody gotta die, oh One day everybody gotta die One day everybody gotta die, my nigga, my nigga