[Verse 1: Kid Vishis]
Straight out of Detroit, a crazy motherfucker named Vishis
Aiming for the richest though I come from the trenches
Son of a killer, get lead poison from the thriller
Bullets missed you, it’s cool
Cause it’ll still hit you nigga
I’m back, a black lone ranger, divine force
On my high horse, riding round looking for danger
Detroit mangler, I see Royce famous so I’m hungry
But keep the fame, I just want the money
Like 3 men in one, get your gun right now
If I verse the power to put your lights out
When I strike-out, lash-out, your ass out
How you going to war with royalty? What your cash bout?
I came here to stomp you, till you bleed
I walked in wearing Jordans, red bottoms when I leave
Catch you in the club, and see it dumping
While your fist pumping
You cash your jewels bitch, run it
You hard when you rhyme boy
But your crew remind me of bitches in men’s clothes
Y’all a bunch of tom boys
Put your swag in a bag zip it up
Prolly trash, if you can spit
It still ain’t sick as us
Nigga trust I’m head hunting your pumpkin
But lead dumping and spread down to your legs
From aims nothing
Big bank take little bank
You'll lose Morris Day stash
Couple extra grand in the shoes
Straight out of Detroit, a crazy motherfucker named Vishis
Aiming for the richest though I come from the trenches
Son of a killer, get lead poison from the thriller
Bullets missed you, it’s cool
Cause it’ll still hit you nigga
I’m back, a black lone ranger, divine force
On my high horse, riding round looking for danger
Detroit mangler, I see Royce famous so I’m hungry
But keep the fame, I just want the money
Like 3 men in one, get your gun right now
If I verse the power to put your lights out
When I strike-out, lash-out, your ass out
How you going to war with royalty? What your cash bout?
I came here to stomp you, till you bleed
I walked in wearing Jordans, red bottoms when I leave
Catch you in the club, and see it dumping
While your fist pumping
You cash your jewels bitch, run it
You hard when you rhyme boy
But your crew remind me of bitches in men’s clothes
Y’all a bunch of tom boys
Put your swag in a bag zip it up
Prolly trash, if you can spit
It still ain’t sick as us
Nigga trust I’m head hunting your pumpkin
But lead dumping and spread down to your legs
From aims nothing
Big bank take little bank
You'll lose Morris Day stash
Couple extra grand in the shoes
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