Detroit 187

The way these bitches on my cock
You'd swear it was 1985
and Teen Wolf just dropped
And my name was Michael J. Fox
But no bitch it's Danny Brown I got some weed up in my sock
So bitch get high with ya nigga
The sack I got is looking some green caterpillars
But it smell like a skunk that's oh so defensive
These bitches suck my dick like it was moral incentive
I'm off the chain like broke nunchucks
From where these little niggas try to shoot you off that new Chucks
A little dark like wet Nubuck
Describes my state of mind is inside the tomb of King Tut
Murders all the time is all I see
Detroit 187 on you niggas TV
And I can first agree this beat kill a nigga no charges
Fuck a female MC and a pop artist
Oh baby, I like it raw
And my dick so big left stretch marks on her jaw

I'm so institutionalized
I wake up 6 a.m. because I think it's to learn
Borderline porcupine, a step from drinking turpentine
Just to wash down a plate of 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 these white boys be growing
While you niggas smoking something smelling like a tanning lotion
My concoctions could make world ending potions
These other rap niggas got lines I got encroachments
I get endorsements, so motherfuck your co-sign
Punch punchlines I'll punch rappers 'til your broke spine
'member back in '09, I told 'em it was showtime
Now they pull they cam phones out when I go for mine
Light camera action, Hybrid be snapping
'Cause the days of no tissue had to wipe with wet napkins
Smear up the classifieds know it sound trife
But to be honest a metaphor for my life

(Stat)

Buzzing off the barbiturates and amphetamines
Chase it with a 40 Oz of Ready Clean
I swear I never ever smoke the better weed
Your bitch said I'm the swaggiest nigga she ever seen
Run up in your crib, two K's, one mag
Your 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 gon' make me send them killers after him
Them niggas swing swords like World Fence Champions
You was popping pills and drinking liquor
Now you thinking you a gangsta killer
I leave you stanking nigga, laid down
Face down like you taking a planking 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