Hate me or love me, no, I don't care
It's the same thing
45 in your face, have a great day
59 be the set, bitch, I stay grey
Okay, here I come with the AK
Okay, Yung Plague got a blank slate
No cake, Yung Plague got a blank plate
So grey, Yung Plague gotta break banks
No pain, but I numb myself anyway
Renegade, gotta get away, so I levitate
The human race gotta find a way to renovate
Keep it simple, bitch
I think I'm fucking Hemingway
Gotta find a bitch that I can penetrate
Let her know I ain't gonna inseminate
Separate, then tell her to go meditate
She got depressed and overdosed
Now all she do is vegetate

Okay, hold up, run up in the spot
This a stick-up
Tie the bitch up, time to re-up
Hit 'em with the onomatopoeia
When I speak up, bitch
I'm Jesus out the freezer
'Cause I'm fucking cold, dead
Better yet a threat
To any motherfucker comin' at the fucking set
(The $carecrow)
Made out of roaches and locusts
Smokers who make waves like Moses, no motive
Fucking some co-eds that think I'm a poet
But fuck it
I pour it 'till I'm slumped and loaded
Reaching my lowest, they think I'm heroic
Funny to me, but they think that I'm chosen
Illusions, illusions pollutin' the humans
One bullet away from my problem's solutions
Sippin' on Houston while I rot and ruin
Almighty 59, bitch, I'd die for my union

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): Aristos Petrou, Scott Arcenaux