[Intro: Rolex B]

Uhhh

Bree, bree, bree, bree

[Verse 1: Rolex B]

I’m the bee's knees, your girl blew me like a swift breeze

Leave you full of bullet holes like swiss cheese

Do a line in the bathtub like Whitney Houston

Everything’s bigger in Texas, get used to it

I’m from Dallas, homie, McKinney specifically

Recently I underwent a fucking epiphany

Most of this rap shit, it’s wack shit

All these wack rappers driving me batshit

Especially Danny Brown, it’s tragic

I shit on Danny then make off with the guap

Danny B scared so he goes and runs to the cops, uh

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, yeah, Rolex B just fucking murdered me”

Yeah I’m about to do it again

You don’t know the type of damage I can do with a pen

Why you hate Danny? Cause wack rapper get beefed with

I’m dicking Danny hard with my 20-inch meatstick

You jack off so much that your wrist numb

You look and sound like the black Forrest Gump

You sure is dumb, and it looks like your tongue is in jail

You’re getting nailed by a pale rapper that never failed

Rolex

[Hook: Rolex B]

Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh

Fuck Danny Brown

Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh

Fuck Danny Brown, woo!

[Verse 2: Broccoli Man]

Cruising round the hood feeling good on my bike

Dropping my gears like I drop in a mic

Some little shit starting trouble with me

Like “Bridgestone? What a fucking weeb”

Well tick tock, bitch, it’s Glock ‘o'clock

Start beef with the bae and you might get shot

Two hands on the gun, none on the bars

She still ride smooth, smoother than my bars

Wait, hold up, got me an addendum

My verses have a bar limit before I can end them

First things first cause I ain’t no fucking liar

I love my bike, but my wires ain’t fire

And I ain’t gonna say my brakes are shot

But fuck, man, my stopping distance ain’t hot

My old ride was red like my man Kyle

But my new girl she purple like the Gem of the Nile

Um, fuck, shit, ass

Tic Tac Squad, I’ma take a pass

[Hook: Rolex B]

Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh

Fuck Danny Brown

Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh

Fuck Danny Brown, woo!

[Verse 3: Life’s Complex]

Tic tock, young brother, it’s the Tic Tac

Rappers got me pissed off cause they know they been trash

Bumping like I’m Kid Rock, got them bars like Kit Kat

And I’m ‘bout to lift off, so make sure you in strapped

Down like you Jay Sean, bring the heat like napalm

Clean the streets of trash I, always hear the same song

Got broads in Atlanta, them bitches get rained on

Man those lyrics kill me, active like it’s radon

So homie get my hazmat suit, and I’ll get back at you

Just give me 20 minutes and I’m gonna act a fool

Get neck in Bonetown, and I got snapbacks too

T-T-S, aka the fashion crew

Cause I’m just living life, doing what I can

Preach positivity like Lil B taught me again

I could start a beef with MattyB but that’d be kind of petty

Cause the sauce already got him choking on spaghetti

Motherfucker

Motherfucking bars

Woo