[Verse 1:]
Crutches, crosses, caskets,
Crutches, crosses, caskets,
All I see is victims.
My young niggas sic' ‘em,
I don't get ‘em,
I just get back their jewelry if I'm fuckin' with ‘em.
Your man crush Mondays be owin' niggas,
My skin is triple black, I'm the omen,
You can't kill a God like the Romans, uh!
Take my time to craft shit,
‘Cause I don't like back and forths with Puff about rap shit.
[Verse 2:]
Crutches, crosses, caskets,
Crutches, crosses, caskets,
All I see is victims.
Rappers is victimized at an all-time high,
But not I, you pop niggas thought I let it fly,
I'm Yasiel Puig, I'm in another league,
I defected, only thing we have in common, niggas bleed.
In ya thousand dollar joggers as you rhyme about ya dollars,
Is there shame when a platinum rapper's mother lives in squalor?
Mildred's in the Bahamas for the month,
She's probably sittin' in her pajamas havin' lunch
Swordfish, my reality is more fish,
Banana clips for all you Curious Georges,
Old niggas slappin' young niggas,
Ha, imagine that, where you from, nigga?
[Verse 3:]
Crutches, crosses, caskets,
Crutches, crosses, caskets,
All I see is death by the masses.
The only asterisk is the change of address,
My infinity pool as long as Magic's.
Yeah, I let Zillow change my pillows,
The home is so inviting, the Porsche is the armadillo,
The silhouette,
The pop, pop, pop; the chop, chop, chop,
The throwaway TEC's got Tourettes.
It's more than this drug money, I love money,
I speak to your soul, and that's above money,
This the ministry of street energy,
The church of criminology, teachin' my chemistries.
Woo! I'm the L. Ron Hubbard of the cupboard
To some certain mothafuckas, gotta love it.
[Outro:]
Crutches, crosses, caskets,
Crutches, crosses, caskets,
All I see is victims,
Crutches, crosses, caskets,
Crutches, crosses, caskets,
All I see is victims.
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