Detroit 187

The way these bitches on my cock

You'd swear was 1985 and teen wolf just dropped

And my name was Michael J Fox

But no bitch my name is Danny Brown I got some weed up in my sock

So bitch get high with ya nigga

The sack I got looking some dead caterpillars

But it smell like a skunk that's oh so defensive

These bitches suck my dick like was moral incentive

Off the chain like broke nunchucks

Where little niggas come thru and shoot you over new chucks

A little dark like wet nubuck

Decribes my state of mind is inside the tomb of king tut

Murder all the time all we see

Detroit 187 on you niggas TV

I can first degree this beat and walk wit no charges

Fuck a female MC and a Pop Artist

Ohh baby I like it raw

And My dick so big left stretch marks on her jaw

I'm so institutionalized

I wake up 6 AM because I think its chow time

I'm a borderline porcupine

A step from drinking turpentine

Just to wash down a plate of these wack rappers rhymes

I got a mind in the cosmos

And if these niggas cold then I guess I'm osmosis

That be blowing on some potent

That them white boys be growing

While you niggas smoking smelling like some tanning lotion

My concoctions could make world ending potions

These other rap niggas got lines I got encroachments

I got endorsements so muthafucka a cosign

Punch punchlines I'll punch rappers til your broke spine

Remember back in 09

I told em it was showtime

Now they pull they cam phones out when I go for mine

Lights camera action

Hybrid be snapping

Cause the days of no tissue had to whip with wet napkins

Smear up the classifieds know it sound trife

But to be honest a metaphor my life

Buzzin off the bar bitch you with's an amphetamine

Chase it with a 40 oz of Ready Clean

I swear I never ever smoke the better weed

Yo bitch said I'm the swaggiest nigga she ever seen

Run up in yo crib, Two K's, One Mag

Yo girl get snatched like Cool J in I'm Bad

Cost to live, you ain't made enough

Guarantee bullet holes with a laser touch

European garments drape my body if I ain't hipstered up

If she smile with eye contact then the bitch will fuck

Homie gone make me send them killers after him

Them niggas swing swords like Word Fence Champions

You was poppin' pills and drinking liquor

Now you thinkin you a gangsta killer

I leave you stankin' nigga

Laid down, face down like you taking a plankin picture

But I can keep the shots in the weapon

Put the bat to back of your leg

Grab your chin and the back of your head

And twist them shits in opposite directions