Wrapped in XLR cables Up from my whiskers, down to my fuckin' kicks Wreck-O was echoed in Gordon Geckos You suckin' dick Nobody be askin' me for secrets I ain't chuckin' tips I'd rather be bumpin' hips On that ratchet with muffin tits Tore up the limits From Britan visions would rock their lives Inside a prison where giddy bitches don't jock the rhyme Born in precision Rhythm spittin' could swat a fly For them to just kick a single shillings from Spotify Bye, Bye killers On a high five business Gonna ride by the sickest In your high ride to the hitlist If we ain't spoke in ages Then miss me with broken favors You Miley Cyrus to majors You twerkin' on swollen razors (run now) Dont make me come to dinnernail your tounge down And have you plead your case to us At Strangeland at sundown Be careful of the biz Cause everything has got a price attached Wake up with a horse head in your bed And next your life is snatched