Buckingham Palace - Ghostface Killah, KXNG Crooked, Benny the Butcher

Hunnid Gs

Bone crusher, I’m like the hood’s top celebrity

Long dick ya chick like my rap’s longevity

Colder than a glass of ice cubes

I got 'em all in bad moods, stompin' on shoes, I never lose

I don’t give a fuck about how you’re feelin'

Got the roof on fire, legs to the ceilin'

Sexual healin', we throw on that Marvin Gaye shit

Got two black burners, that’ll melt your facelift

Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast

My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast

We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics

We bounce off promoters like West Coast hydraulics

Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box

Right near the mask and the wig are the fake dreadlocks

Bumboclaat, box of ammo in the pocket

It’s all fun and games 'til your eye’s hangin' out your socket

Watch how you’re talkin' to my goons, it’s guerillas

Shooters, ruthless, all types of killers

Hunger Game shit, they’re fightin' for block space

Box cutters, Gem Stars’ll ox your face

Watch how you’re talkin' to my goons, it’s guerillas

Shooters, ruthless, all types of killers

Hunger Game shit, they’re fightin' for block space

Box cutters, Gem Stars’ll ox your face

Hey yo, I got a problem with authority

Lawyers handle problems accordingly

They actin' like they pops wasn’t callin' me

I gotta make sure my corner eat

Over the stove pot leaned to the side like I’m pourin' tea

Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats

Either you a hustler or a thief

All I needed was a quarter ki'

In the corner, me and my dawg regulated like Warren G

Sold it hot, but I bought it cheap

Got it from Miami back to P.A.

like Ross and Meek

Huh, borrowed your bitch for a week

She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee

You talk slick, but can’t afford to be

And we don’t call it beef until I’m sendin' hits where your daughters be

Step on work with foreign sneaks

Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee

Watch how you’re talkin' to my goons, it’s guerillas

Shooters, ruthless, all types of killers

Hunger Game shit, they’re fightin' for block space

Box cutters, Gem Stars’ll ox your face

Watch how you’re talkin' to my goons, it’s guerillas

Shooters, ruthless, all types of killers

Hunger Game shit, they’re fightin' for block space

Box cutters, Gem Stars’ll ox your face

Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop!

The nozzle is the nostril of the Roscoe, pop pop!

Possibly I’m comin' across as hostile

You could be double-crossed by your apostle, that’s the Pentecostal gospel

Black C.O.B.

flag hangin' out the left side

Blowin' in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside

Ran up in the stash spot when I heard my connect died

His wife is Columbian, got Columbian neck tied

I went from roaches in the cereal to flowin' the most ferocious in your stereo

But culture vultures don’t hear me though

Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal

While bitches out here with a burnin' bush like the Moses miracle

Why the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?

I give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that’s onomatopoeia

Go look it up, you don’t read books enough

That’s why Crooked’s up in your Mamma Mia, I’m a G, nigga

(I'm a G, nigga)