Noon Chuckas Gangrene

[Verse 1: Oh No]
The pen is still soiled
I spill that oil like Pennzoil
Then peel you like tin foil
The game has been spoiled
Call up that temp lawyer
Blame it on the sanity so they could get help for you
I play these bars over that Dorner
That lost soldier, that sober
That ogre, that boss told you 'It's over,' then dog, it's over
Kid keep the nines with the Cobra, that Sly nigga Stallone'd ya
That Rock and Roll Hall of Fame material after I stone ya
You a loner, I specialize in aromas
I let 'em sniff what I roll up, a glimpse of that California
Then put 'em in that deep level of a coma
They rolling up all that zona, see, y'all don't want me to chauffeur
See, y'all don't want me to show or come and fuck up your sofa
Bunch of little crumbs like I was dumping a toaster
Bunch of fucking bums chill when y'all heads post up
Before y'all roast up, we'll be there to get that Hope cut
Ayo, hold up
Sit yo' bitch ass down
Count this right here

[Interlude]