Jea, Ja
Zip, Zag, Zig, Zing, uh
Zoom, Zag, Zig, uh
Uh, yeah, this is very scary
This is, this is, this is not the very ordinary
Like Tony Starks man we throw your ass in the Cobra Clutch
Your man watch as your whole head opens up
Sober up, niggy, its the Bob Digi
We throw darts in the air that float like a frisbee
My neck is frostbitten, glass wouldnt teach me
Love my wares but yall thug niggas miss me
Im bionic, my chronic draw the Digi-juice
My fist stacks is bruce you better call the jukes
No excuse the black man must stand up
Time to make the Wu sign throw both of yall hands up
You see me in a Maserati GranTurismo
Up in the club my beat got more sub than Quizno
Mama thats the business Ima a get this
Give me ten digits
Fuck that before I quit this
Walk in the prise of a purse
If it dont make it dollas, nigga, then it dont make sense
If it dont make dollas, then it dont make sense
If it dont make dollas, then it dont make sense
No, no, it dont make sense
Shake it out one time…
March in here everywhere
I see dead people when I spit with my sixth sense
My sixteens are sick sentences that make sense
Which means they inflict pain thats intense
I got brains backstage I been rhymin sick since
Sing a song of sixpence
Pockets full of rhyme
The road is Im known til I die
Torches, switchblades, and pockmarked sky
My shades is black my boots is fly
Rock n roll I lose control
Fuck the white ones, The Black Keys got so much soul
While you come off of the bench
If it dont make dollas then it dont make sense
If it dont make dollas then it dont make sense
Dog, If it dont make dollas then it dont make sense
Dog, It needs to make sense
If it dont make dollas then it dont make sense
If it dont make dollas then it dont make sense
If it dont make dollas then it dont make sense
No, no, it dont make sense
If it dont make dollas then it dont make sense
If it dont make dollas mama don t make no sense
Yeah, oooooohhhhhhh…