WEALTHMASTA - Savage Hours

Pull up to the club with some Xanax and pills
I ain’t fucking around, I was sent there to kill
Take a bad bitch home, she beggin’ to get drilled
She got big French boobs and an ass from Brazil
Lay her out on the sofa, stick that shit in deep
I spread out my opps like I spread those cheeks
Planning sky strikes, that’s how I spend my week
Boutta crash an air base with a car-jacked Jeep
Circle the enemies’ hiding place with a Raider X
We ridin’ in the choppa, comin’ for their necks
Grab the parachutes, we diving into the set
Ambush the station, no survivors left
FBI after us, but wе ain’t leave no trace
Finishеd our duties, left the scene in a blaze
Burned the evidence, then we left that place
We can’t be caught, because we made our escape

This ain’t no funny business, it’s the savage hours
Time to hammer the haters, and disprove the doubters
Round up those goons, turn them all into chowder
This ain’t no funny business, it’s the savage hours

I don’t need Metamucil to squeeze out these bars
You can’t handle the taste, so you may as well starve
Flush my opps like waste, carve em’ into small parts
Waffle-stomp em’ down the drain, like I do with my cigars
The drain is your mouth, bitch, you confused poop for chocolate
My drip goes hard, like a fucking sensor faucet
Got a couple grand, and a handful of dope in my pocket
I’m boutta take off into space, like a Saturn V rocket
Fuck this place, bitch I’m shooting for Jupiter
This rap is like a guillotine, I’m the exocutioner
Last night, your wife got a taste of my cucumber
I fondled her tight chest gems, call me a jeweler
Cause I like to give my enemies a taste of my wrath
I’ll disembowel any bitch who puts their feet in my path
This ain’t complicated, pussy, don’t treat it like math
My game is so filthy, it stank up the bath
This ain’t no funny business, it’s the savage hours
Time to hammer the haters, and disprove the doubters
Round up those goons, turn them all into chowder
This ain’t no funny business, it’s the savage hours

I’m an atomic bomb sorta, a weapon of mass destruction
Locate your headquarters, blow up your function
Kidnap your family members, send a ransom with instructions
Your team’s about to face a financial repercussion
Brushing these specks of plaque away, like motherfuckin’ Colgate
Stayin’ crisp like that, no grime that you can locate
I’ll huff and puff like the big bad wolf, and snort yo ass like cocaine
Don’t question my orders, just stay silent and obey
I fucked your hoe mom, I’m making cereal with that milf
She provides the oats, my dick provides the milk
Pour it in a bowl, let it reach the brink and spill
Watch her gulp that shit up, then she drinks a refill
My dick game smooth, but my rap game smoother
Nothing can prepare you for this shit, you loser
I’m an F-16 plane, you’re a fucking scooter
You’re just a cancerous pain, a worthless tumor

This ain’t no funny business, it’s the savage hours
Time to hammer the haters, and disprove the doubters
Round up those goons, turn them all into chowder
This ain’t no funny business, it’s the savage hours