Yo, I got Hawaiian punchlines and Tropicana thoughts
Got a rhyme for every square in your pack of Newports
I got rainbow nuggets like Denver ballcourts
Forget what I got, son, I keep styles of all sorts
And my flows, Louis, just like your girls Vaton
And my mic catch heat, like a tanning salon
See the way I spit darts is like a man just bombed
Under my arm, I got you and a dope fiend struggling
Your your guns get flatlined just like Keifer Sutherland
Log heads, I smell the wood burn when you think
You got it all, but I can rob you blind when you blink
So don't sleep, Wiggy Kruger commit crimes, blow dimes
Up to the break of dawn, I write rhymes
Jack beats, 45 times a week
And I can spit a shit, rappers out, both on my sheets