Texty: Man Man. Push The Eagles Stomach.

i don't wannna know your name (my vice grips)
i don't wanna know your name (bad vice cops)
i don't wanna know your name (the prescription doesn't scan)
we start shrinking
when we hit that grill you know we will
don't beat around the black jack night
don't beat around the black jack night
don't beat around the black jack night
don't beat around the black jack night
(my brain hurts, you're own your own from here)

Black Jack Night x 8

(My maid works faster than yours.)
(My face looks better than yours.)
(My feet beat louder than yours.)
(My grandmas better than yours.)

Mustache, Mustache, Mustache, Mustache, Mustache. x 4

The Gun is not my Son x 8

And get around the Black Jack Night
I wanna slay my mustache right.
I wanna see my hand in knife.
I don't wanna be the Son ____ ?