Текст песни
Mic check, one-two, one-two
It's pronounced "Bar-chetta"
Chetta, not "shay," you fucking dumbass (oh, my God)
Chetta!
Sniff up, uh (aye)
Just packed 50 fuckin' oppies in my Dedd Barchetta (hah, hah)
Cut 'em up and stack 'em nice, don't get no blood on the legs
Ain't tryna talk, just want the jaw because the head far great (fuck)
You tote the .45, 'spose we goin' to war time, mate
Yo, why you testin'? Here's a lesson, I go V for vendet'
That Smith & Wesson go together, like two birds of a fea'
You try go play 'round with that pole, you spin around it like te'
They flyin' both sides, know there ain't no joy and no plea'
Fuck-fuck-fuck ya goals, guy, motherfuck ya cosign, bitch (cosign, bitch)
Grab the bowie knife, stab him 34 times, bitch
David Bowie type, Blackstar, throwin' scythes, bitch
Act like Crona with thee hoe, I eat your soul, bye, bitch
I'm on the run (hah)
Tell 'em, "Jimmy's comin' with lil' Janey"
Don't enrage or piss her off, you know that Janey got a motherfuckin' gun
I get Fendi floatin' when I'm motherfuckin' tokin'
Crash a 47 Boeing to the motherfuckin' sun
How I rock, can not talk wit' ya bro
Hate the pigs and the po', I'ma chokehold that motherfucker, Trump
Throwin' rocks, throwing stones at your home
Get too close, I'ma knock you off ya toes and out ya motherfuckin' trunks
Just packed 50 fuckin' oppies in my Dedd Barchetta (hah)
Cut 'em up and stack 'em nice, don't got no blood on the legs
Ain't tryna talk, just want the jaw because the head far great (fuck)
You tote the .45, 'spose we goin' to war time, mate