"Yonkers"

[Verse 1]
I be a gangbangin' fuckin' struttin' paradox, no I be not
Threesomes wit a gangbangin' fuckin' triceratops, Reptar
Rappin' as I be mockin' deaf rock stars
Wearin' synthetic wigs made of Anwarz dreadlocks
Bedrock, harder than a muthafuckin' Flintstone
Makin' crack rocks outta pissy nizzle fishbones
This nizzle Jasper tryna git grown
Bout 5'7" of his biiiatches up in mah bedroom
Swallow tha cinnamon, I'mma scribble dis sinnin' shit
While Syd is tellin' me dat da hoe been gettin' intimate wit men
(Syd, shut tha fuck up) Herez tha number ta mah therapist
(Shiznit) Tell his ass all yo' problems, he fuckin' phat wit listenin'

[Verse 2]
Jizzy called, da perved-out muthafucka holla'd da perved-out muthafucka sick of tha disses
I holla'd at his ass ta quit biiiatchin' n' dis aint a gangbangin' fuckin' hotline
For a gangbangin' fuckin' shrink, sheesh I already gots mine
And he not fuckin' workin', I be thinkin I be wastin' mah damn time
I be clockin' three past six n' goin' postal
This tha revenge of tha dicks, thatz nine cocks dat ding-a-ling nines
This ain't no V Tech shiznit or Columbine
But afta bowlin', I went home ta some damn Adventure Time
(What'd you do?) I slipped mah dirty ass some pink Zannies
And danced round tha doggy den up in all-over print panties
My fuckin momz gone, dat fuckin' broad aint NEVER gonna KNOW me
I aint gay, I just wanna boogie ta some Marvin
(What you be thinkin of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her, Wolf Haley robbin' 'em
I be bout ta crash dat fuckin' airplane dat playa nizzle B.o.B is in
And stab Bruno Mars up in his wild lil' freakadelic goddamn esophagus
And won't stop until tha cops come in
I be a over acheiver, so how tha fuck 'bout I start a crew of leaders
And pick up Stevie Wonder ta be tha wide receiver
Chronic paper, gold teeth n' pregnant gold retrievers
All I want, fuck scrilla, diamondz n' biiiatches, don't need 'em
But where tha fat ones at, biatch? I gots somethin' ta feed 'em
In some cookin' books, tha black lil playas never wanted ta read 'em
Snap back, chronic ch-ch-chia fuckin' leaves
It aint nuthin but been a cold-ass lil couple months, n' Tina still ain't perm her fuckin' weave, damn

[Verse 3]
They say success is tha dopest revenge
So I beat DeShay up wit tha stack of magazines I be in
Oh, not again, another critic writin' report
I be stabbin' any bloggin' playa hipsta wit a Pitchfork
Still suicidal, biatch? I am
I be Wolf, Tyla put dis fuckin' knife up in mah hand
I be Wolf, Ace gon' put dat fuckin' hole up in mah head
And I be Wolf, dat was me whoz ass shoved a cold-ass lil ding-a-ling up in yo' biiiatch
(What tha fuck, man?) Fuck tha hype n' all tha hype, G
I just wanna know if mah daddy would eva like me
But I don't give a gangbangin' fuck so he probably just like me
A muthafuckin' Goblin
(Fuck everythin', man) Thatz what tha fuck mah conscience holla'd
Then it bunny hopped off mah shoulder, now mah conscience dead
Now tha only guidizzle dat I had is splattered on cement
Actions drop a rhyme louder than lyrics, let me try dis shit, dead