I don't talk to a dairy I talk to my revolver you see a problem I see one solver Poppin shots like a Hitman dress to kill an pack that steal wipe these hoes off my plate an do the dishes stacking up bodies like I'm serving grams keeping it hood like I done joined the fucking klan but I ain't that man still crazy as fuck like the son of sam too real to make it up on some ghostface shit bitch but half you hoes won't make the final cut steady on the run back an forth with a blade or gun before half you clown ass niggas didn't know I was just having fun I don't talk to a diary I talk to my revolver you see a problem I see one solver I just begun I ain't the one coming out the slaughterhouse with a chainsaw ready to murder all you hoes get ripped keep running that mouth and the balls get clipped killing to me ain't a thing I'm a crazy mother fucker with too much dope in my veins charging these fools like super bowl Sunday motherfucker hit me with a shotgun and it just stunned me turned around with the butcher knife and cut his ass up like Bundy I don't talk to a diary I talk to my revolver you see a problem I see a problem solver