Lyrics:

Like a Houdini I'm gone
See you gettin played like a ball
When I skin a motherfucker to the bone
If he got a weak tone
I see you coming at me all wrong
Sit back take a hit of the bong
Better get stoned
Everybody wanna act strong
They supporting the weak while they sitting at home all alone
In front of their screen
Never be punching a thing but their keys
Flipping their border for ki's
It's just that they not from the hood as if it be good
They in suburbia
Where it's safe for the kids like you
You will never what I've been through
Cause I ain't like you
Talk talk all you do
When it come time to do excuse excuse
Say you making moves like a chess piece
Better wear a vest these side of the tracks
So you wanna hit a track with me
Okay
If you don't wanna pay
Don't come my way
Sick of the rappers say they got weight
I try to come at you but you only got a 8th
Get the fuck out my face
Unless you wanna feed me the faith
I don't resonate my game because of my shade
But I'ma eat, eat like a fat bitch at a buffet
Stay the fuck out my way

[Chorus x2]
Brown bag boy
Pants cut to the knees
Gas station Tall T in a Grand Marquis
See I keep it low-key
Rather you don't know me
I ain't looking for no friends
Ya'll just liabilities

'Wow! it's really coming on strong...
And then what you have to do is you have take one more enormous hit.'

6 on a Friday just got paid
For the next 3 days I'ma stay in a haze
See I worked all day so I gave myself a raise
I don't answer to nobody and my bills get paid

'He doesn't like you'
'I'm sorry'
'I don't like you either. You just watch yourself we're wanted men, I have the death sentence on twelve systems.'
'I'll be careful'
'You'll be dead!'

Wake up in the mornin' hit the stu zip-tized
Look to my right side and I see a dime lying
Maybe thinking to myself what a wonderful life
How that in the end I'll be the fucker dragged then ending up tied in the dirt
So there was a motherfucker sayin I was rappin but a cracker
Took my privacy, I catch him in my place
So I cracked him in the face
He a disgrace to my race
White boy with no taste
Put him in his place

[Chorus x2]
Brown bag boy
Pants cut to the knees
Gas station Tall T in a Grand Marquis
See I keep it low-key
Rather you don't know me
I ain't looking for no friends
Ya'll just liabilities