Oh my god, look at my Roley Too much sauce Look at my squad, like holy moly Look at my squad Nah, come on T, man Not even chatting to these bruddas, man They're boys, man, baby boys Still got Oysters and that Not even oyster perpetuals

What goes around comes back to you Holy God man Well won't you lend me insight To your counterfeited tyranny Mouth fulls of christian view Thou hath to be blind Ends so plain to me Out of body and beside myself

'Cause they ain't never seen a war like me. Son of Sam. Goddamn, I might be the son of Sam. The only child of a holy man. I stand alone for all to see, (Goddamn) Son of Sam. Son of Sam. Paint it black and white if you like, And I will catch you, but who