[Hook: Classic Cris and Deejay] If it ain't about them Crackheads We don't give a fuck about it nah If it ain't about them Crackheads We don't give a fuck about it nah On the road to be invincible Invictus, ain't defeat possible, yeah On the road to be invincible Invictus, ain't shit impossible, yeah [Verse 1: Deejay] Breathe, while I vent right quick My only fear in life is that I probably get rich Then spend it all on the spot for my moms Take care of my sis, treat my girls like stars Room full of hoes just me and my bros Buddha G on the way so we bout to get throwed Stunt, on all that bitches that dissed me Fuck 'em good to the weekend and make 'em miss me Head to the spot take my niggas out the bricks Remember rolling round with a truck full of bricks Eyes low, looking for the cops Cuz we see the flashing lights ain't no way we finna stop Told these hating niggas we was coming for the top And on the way there aiming for you niggas tops Honestly, this shit ain't easy Spend hours on these rhymes, trying to appeal thee Second sense of the audience they said they feel me To think I let you down hurts, really kinda kills me 'Til the day I go all these mother fuckers kill me Going hard like a juice box can't feel me Like the streets want a nigga dead I'm on the block Cuz a nigga got money heating up a pot Real ass cars, that's on boss Never drop a fucking bar if it ain't from heart Long nights so we pop a couple pills If real had a cost all you niggas getting billed Blunts in the air for the ones who said I kill beats On my third strike not running so don't kill me God forbid it happen but I know you demons out for me That's why I pray at night and every time before a nigga eat Wrote this in ten you niggas gotta feel me Laced it in fire Crack coming for your building [Verse 2: Classic Cris] I don't even know how to not kill it Put my heart in every song I hope that you can feel it Crack in the building Still the illest in the city Say alotta stupid sit but I ain't ever kidding When I'm bragging bout my crew man we coming up Never waste a minute even when we fucked up I don't wanna sound stuck up but we the best Fuck your dress code my bars are coming for your neck You can't stop me I'm Fonzy on ex A silent success haven't been discovered yet This is, passion, speaking we got it next Bump it, through your, speakers you know we next Raised humble never overconfident But classic invictus can't put this king in check Flashy ass business I'm over this rap An artist of bars put a frame on my tracks Give my all so I ball and they'll be on my balls This music is stress but the streets out control They use you consume you 'til your heart is lost Rather go insane from chasing it all You could never understand this feeling that I get When I rip shit with my clique, so sick, Hot fire roasted, posted Next to the ocean, looking soulless What you don't know is I'm thinking bout a couple ways to put my crew on, Get my stu on, get a fucking move on We ain't got time for whatever you on Relax, no fuck that man I'm too gone Going off, too determined to fold Showing off, so determined to blow up Ya know what I don't even smoke but roll up Classic, invincible, check the toes bruh [Hook: Classic Cris and Deejay] If it ain't about them Crackheads We don't give a fuck about it nah If it ain't about them Crackheads We don't give a fuck about it nah On the road to be invincible Invictus, ain't defeat possible, yeah On the road to be invincible Invictus, ain't shit impossible, yeah [Verse 3: Deejay and Classic Cris] Scream Deejay you can call me Deejay Crackhouse through your speakers put that shit on replay Beasting these beats another ether for Pete's sake Reason they're heating their pieces like D day Fools play, all my niggas get paid Pussy magnet, all my niggas get laid Ron Jeremy dick, money Bill Gates All over the track pass the mic rap relay For Pete's sake never meant to bust in your face Chucks laced like I'm getting ready for a race Got the torch, holding on to first place After that eating rappers without even sayin' grace Get ate, shit you out no trace I'm cool, motha fuck what you think Don't you feel defeated, last in the paper chase? I'm your worst enemy fat bitch stair case Packin heat, bars in the suitcase Take yo bitch, play the bitch call it 2k That's too great, I'm Tupac in new days Fuck what your crew say, you're Perez, you're too gay Killing everything Classic Cris Dorner Rap game fucked up we here to reforge it Burn down everything cleanse and restore it The Crackhouse movement, it'll be historic

[Verse 1: GK Paypastaks] Last minute trip, this my last minute lifeline Last in the race, but the marathon is lifetime Better step your game up, before you hit the sideline So I dont need a raise, I just need to buy time Paint a vivid picture but be suspicious Of which of these figures you claim to be Dis-memeber your favorite team And just eminate what's a G High - elevate, crusing free, they're irrelavant 'til you D-I-E, rest your Ey-es The flights free - some right green Take out the IV, goodnight me, politely Coughed to get high, now Im high in a coffin Commit a crime, I only lie when they chalk me Forget the rhymes when I'm talking to you Sublime is an option Not subliminal, worse than criminal Even if your name was Max, you'd be minimal Write this shit straight from the grave I call it biblical Took the long route, my trip just wasnt Visable [Verse 2: Classic Cris] Leave your heart home, bring your fat ass Bring your stupid girlfriends we gon have a kickback I got that liquor, Greg got that green Tell me right now bitch what else do you need I like whiskey, I like big titties I like the fact that the Crack run the city Loungin in the house, Justin you can walk You can run your ass home 50 mothafuckin blocks Classic (what up) some say that you reckless (huh?) Well I don't give a fuck man Im eatin candy for breakfast Reeses puffs they try and tell me that its cereal Then why the fucks it so delicious bitch im curious Last minute trippin adventure time cookie crisping Im smokin Im sippin liquor its potent I'm overdosing So ... pour up hope you're all packed It's just a last minute trip and we ain't coming back

I'm smoking on the finest That Miranda Kerr Kush I'm eating like piranhas Going hard, Reggie Bush I kill the track, Hernandez You bumping this with your grandkids And you bitching in the kitchen While I'm finger licking this chicken Cristol is what I'm sipping 44's is what I'm tipping I'm too good I'm Christian Why you suck? You Ponder Your mind begins to wonder I'm just posted in my lawn chair This life you don't even know And like I said before I kill the track, Hernandez You still bumping this with your grandkids They bumping this in Atlantis I feel the funk so I'm dancing Turn up the volume and let loose 8th of shrooms and some of that juice We all just pandas eating bamboo Black and white and rainbows too Sacrifice to make what you Kick back, relax, and get turnt to Fly as Mary Poppins umbrells Ya gonna see our holograms at Coachella I'm nastier than Cruella De Vil's state of mind With dalmatians locked in the cellar After snorting a line And after (Hook) [3rd Verse: Classic Cris] I done popped a pill, Im gon crazy now I was a fan, I killt Jay-z nahhh Thats disrespect but Im breaking necks with the set I rep (So check that shit) That's Crackhouse hoe Thats a household name, got you in a chokehold That's a household hoe in the backseat throwing signs out the window that you don't even know And you ain't never learn, turnt up off that wine at church Rap bout my dicks thats a Classic verse Pic of my dick in yo bitches purse Ayyy .. Im faded Codeine on my pancakes, Do drugs for my fans sake Then I eat the beat like some crab cakes Im Pacquiao on adderall, whack rappers I cant stand you all You blackout drunk you bound to fall (off) Fuckin nerds Ill bash you all Mastermind with downs syndrome, homer simpson when I be spittin Goin dummy on you bummy bitches, diss me I cant listen cuz I'm ... (Hook)

[Verse 1: Classic Cris] No point in wishful thinkin, know theres better ways to waste my time Especially cuz Im the one who frowns upon a wasteful mind Ill get up on my grind, and leave it in the hands of time My trust in God is strong so now Ill put this stress up in these rhymes The realest shit I wrote its keepin me from sleepin now But whats it matter the value of an honest rhyme is cheaper now Hard to live up expectation cuz they wanna keep you down Dreams in safer places long as they exist Ill be around Celebrate success, lets go buy a 30 rack but thats a number I wont see in fact and actually I think Ill live it up with the time I have so please Dont talk to me about the drama gossip sorts of things That wont obtain me money, shove it with shovels down your throat Different type of levels, offered by devils, turn me up Cuz fire's quiet changing lives whille you are sleepin hoe I be graspin dreams reality is what yall reachin for

[Hook: Classic Cris] 1 dick, 2 balls, 3 eyes, 4 At the liquor store with 12 quarters for the colt 1 dick, 2 balls, 3 eyes, 4 At the liquor store with 12 quarters for the colt [Verse 1: Classic Cris] Rest in peace Ms. Lees where my money used to go Got me drunk as mother fuck with a couple of my bros Now I'm swagging shining bright like a diamond Got that hot fire man I'm looking like I'm Dylan Next mother fucker come close get choked Rompompumsting bumbaclot on you hoes Condoms, magnum, not talkin' bout that P.I. I'm high no me high, I'm fustin no juck him Let's move on to something more useful like muffins We camping at Fargos you looking like something I don't like to diss dudes, but y'all sound like bitches Rather pull my dick out, hang it in the kitchen Telling her to eat it, like I'm a dietician Then she make it disappear like she was a magician Oh Classic Cris is so fucking nasty Tell your friends spread the word like ass cheeks [Hook: Classic Cris] 1 dick, 2 balls, 3 eyes, 4 At the liquor store with 12 quarters for the colt 1 dick, 2 balls, 3 eyes, 4 At the liquor store with 12 quarters for the colt [Verse 2: CJ] Mary Jane just loves me they can't break her down like i do Lyrical murderers they don't sell our shit on iTunes Got these bitches jumping like they sitting on a hot stool Fucking better bitches the one you with is in high school If you talking dirty better believe we will find you Chop you up and feed you to my dogs they won't find who Did it then hid it I'm just sick or maybe I got the flu I don't know I'm going crazy my nigga I wonder too What if Im possessed and I just murder all the industry All I see is swag fags and all these damn mini me's Easily influenced I can't let that shit get into me Everybody hating on the Crack I feed off energy No one above the crew my nigga we are the centerpiece If you're number 1 why you hating its still a mystery Had to get a new email cuz it couldn't even fit a g Drinking so much whiskey they be thinking I'm from Tennessee [Hook: Classic Cris] 1 dick, 2 balls, 3 eyes, 4 At the liquor store with 12 quarters for the colt 1 dick, 2 balls, 3 eyes, 4 At the liquor store with 12 quarters for the colt [Verse 3: GK Paypastaks] We lapping the track and they sitting roadside Mechanical sabotaging the beat and it is so fried So fly, so sick, bird flu, nose dive. Oh shit Here he comes delirious Flow designed to be furious Faster than all 6 K's Justin had sent to us Venomous, split her legs like I'm adjusting antennas I'm venting cold hearted like Kevin froze in the polar caps Notice that we don't fuck around like orgies in cul-de-sacs Welcome to the Crack digging a bigger sicker trap When you hear them triggers clap Better be ready to get back With a handle of jack I'm about to hammer it tapping that ass An animal stacking that cash, in-fathomable rappin like that I'm out G

(Hook) [Verse 3: Classic Cris] You hit the top n they despise you But I dont mind you cuz Im with my crew They'll yap that irrelevant trash behind your back and your face they will tell lies to While you worryin bout how fly you are, Ima just fly right by you At the Crackhouse and I got some weed Little bit of Keystone Light too Fuck these bitches like I fuck these writtens Ill probably never have a rival Mindful of shit thats hotter than a rifle tip hide ya bitch boutta fire five clips Polo down to my boxers, grey Chucks with the purple tank Im smokin on dat good good, and sippn on that purple drank Yup she on my D-I-C-K cuz she know I be a G-K Paypastak$ up on the beat you feel me Im kickin faggots asses, sinceI been up in my dad's dick Now thats Classic, Scrappin bastards till my plastered ass Is crashin in the grass Im Me dont forget that part, and Im real, I am these bars I take her to the crib then I fuck her in the dark then I make her run home like she hit out the park, yeah Good lookin, so awesome, real blessed Yous a bitch, period, PMS Sandbags, you aint feel real breasts, Double D's bro quit the bench press

[Verse 1: GK Paypa$tak$] Trying so damn hard to make these rhymes tight - lines right Catch me droppin bombs like I hit you with a fly-by A knife and a 9 Ima leave you tie-died Aiming for the back of your mind, and Im using hindsights See me dropping heat, (I) been eating fire for a week And your perspiring, Im dialed in This pen is trying to speak up! Adidas, will her her running back-to-me, like Im the Qb And she's receiver Even if you caught that, I bet that you wouldn't get it Because there isn't enough bitches That listen to what Im spittin I've written a composition thats killin the competition Going in is what I in-vision, like a surgical incision Yall a bunch of scrubs, and I been drinking J.D. iLoveHandles, but apples fat free [Verse 2: Classic Cris] Im poppin a white pill, Im swervin I might spill My 40, Big L is back n Im nice on the mic still Mike Tyson on vicodins I might fight you and bite your ear Im rhyming ripping this here, havent been to jail in a year Shoutouts to my Grandma, puffin on them stoagies Fuck what the doctor say, he is not your homie You dont like the Crackhouse, mothafucka blow me You could never stop me Im Joseph Kony on Codeine Jabronis, phonys n Jokers, I kill em like Im supposed to Im feelin really important im vibin im smokin dohzer Im lyin, Im posin dont ya know Im righteous Im drinkin orange Juice, and the vodkas foreign, Shoot, Classic Cris Dorner Blastin these bastards ass off, Laughin it up in a mansion put savage ratchets in caskes, couple drips of that acid Kill I fast then I pass it to the murderer/beat harasses Talkin bout them Stak$b bitch, Crackhouse ... Classic So whats it mean to be Classic? Im tired of ya ass talkin, thats why the speakers are blasting Torture ten percentage of kids with torches in orphanages Chokin with my whole entire force till theres no orange in em Saw Jobs ghost told Steve to hire me and Now I'm higher, still retired, getting wired like tweak Trey's from the south and his last name is park- or Something like that, if you didn't get it, check their artwork You say your down to earth, but your really just a heart worm Don't be a critic were the shinit, get your bars firm

[Verse 2: Classic Cris] Classic, how ya gonna hate on him Killt my own beat Im Dre n Em Love to see ya faces when Im spittin my creations never writin a line if it aint amazing Dont deserve praise n shit Ima mothafuckin kid with a page and a pen Cant raise the dead, I cant pay my debt Im just like yall quit the ignorance Save that shit for someone who gives a fuck about a human who dont know who he is Respect the legends but I aint prayin to them Thats competition Im greater than them If that aint a fact, Ima fake it then Till me and God are breakin bread Ima king, won't ever claim to be a God, Wont quit killin raps I cant stop, it turned my life around with a help of a couple cops I just wanna make it for my moms Try n tell me you like to see your mother starve On second thought save your breath, Adelfas gonna ball Even when Im at the top Ima kill you all [Verse 3: GK Paypastak$]

[Verse 1: Classic Cris] Listen haters aint no reason to oppose our dreamin Either you get ethered or we'll leave you barely breathin Cheesin, bitches love the way Im steezin Cuz the reals how I keep it and I see the paper clearly Broke so I smoke to the filter, drink till theres nothin to sip on Bitch you gotta tip top to get a glance of what Cris on Yeah I claim the Classic cuz these new rappers get pissed on Dont fuckin hit me up if you aint ever seen the vision [Verse 2: Dolla Will] (Hook) [Verse 3: Classic Cris & Dolla Will] (Hook) [Verse 4: Classic Cris] Dreamin of a mansion with my dick out on Jessica Alba Dreamin of goin on tour, spittin my platinum albums Wonderin why the fuck Im stuck in the middle, Malcom So many rappers I just wanna punch, Falcon Apparently my name and everybody and they bitches mouth Apparently like 5 people know what the time Im about I remember days, girls wouldnt talk when I came around Now when the bitches hear me speak they get slightly aroused

(Hook) You sleepin on the Kings, Underground legends Crack embarrass rappers, Bruiser just kill em Its the royal slumber, You sleepin on the kings, Royal Slumber Bruiser up in this bitch, style me the fuck out Dopehead gettin jooky goin stupid with the Crackhouse Its the royal slumber, you sleepin on the kings Royal Slumber [Verse 1: Classic Cris] Classic, attacks whack rappers, act fast when Im plastered blast ya King of, everythin ratchet never gave a fuck about appealin to the masses Fuck your fashion, where ya bars, Better take cover when I go full retard Dont be alarmed if you think Im awesome Im beastin on em admit Im raw Up all night I got a craft to master Gotta catch a meal for the morning after, hold up Im done, going stupid Im dumb, Smokin fuck my lungs Saw ya wife on pornhub And you saw me standin right abover her boutta bust without a gun Spit at the cool kids table, when I was just a youngin Still aint signed to no label, but I do this like its nothin I make it look Eazy-E I know get eaten like some pizza rolls Beneaths me where you'll always go and when you speak it always shows Im back to, the flow comin at you, so sneaky sly like the raccoon Ima man of stature makin moves you just a statue Cant imagine, the rations of bars that are comin outta this bastard Dont wanna come off as an asshole but Im past you all I lapped you all (Hook) [Verse 2: Dopehead] Fuck fake MC's ya'll niggas times up Crabs in a bucket, hate to see my climb up And niggas rhymes suck, fakin and they caking Mad, Cuz Im killin whack rappers off the basics I hustle hard, they hate to see this mutant eat Every night, rollin up chiefin nigga fuck sleep And fuck secret beef, cuz bitch Im in the streets Police harass me, they hate to see a nigga free My daddy said my flow tight like Nicki jeans And I vow to kill these rappers by any means Sucka niggas get hit with the Calico Smokin Loud, weed green like a battletote Niggas hate that Im alive, Middle name Homicide I dont let the drama slide I get it from my mommas side Nigga ima cannibal, that Bruiser let them hammers bang Yo bitch horny I eat pussy like George the Animal Smokin sunshine state, Tropicana Shots fired drown a nigga like Louisiana You talk gangsta, never bend a hammer Yall niggas hoodrats all you smoke is Bama

[Verse 1: Classic Cris] I rape Justin with his own dick in the corner Im killin everything, call me Classic Chris Dorner I got bars you can all catch a facial Bukakke, my dick is bigger than a spaceship And im crazy, Ill grab my white paper and make it take this black ink, call in interracial Im on it, like bored kids on pornhub AK's will decay you catch a bullet in the cornhole Pop 3 pills and drink alot of goose 3 nude bitchesi n the coup thats alot of boobs Ima cool mothafucka with nothin to lose So catch me in Justins trunk taking poops The government is out to get you tryna steal your fire So I keep that Cannon in my pants like Im Mariah Don't tell Conrad that I said trill I got that BBQ dick, my meat is on her grill (Hook) I'll rape Justin with his own dick in the corner Im killin everything, Classic Cris Dorner Yeah thats my mothafuckin homie Im killin everything rest in peace Chris Dorner Rape Justin with his own dick in the corner Im killin everything Classic Cris Dorner Rest in Peace Chris Dorner Juck Fustin in the ass with several boners [Verse 2: GK Paypastaks] I'm 'bout to go on a rampage, champagne, campaign Bottles to the head, like I'm a fucking bath drain Abstain from the passing lane, I got a faster way Assassinate these faggots like Chris Dorner But he passed away Deuces, RIP to the homie Truth is something Justin will never know Like its exclusive Toilet in a new whip, true that's some old shit But by now its died down, you might as well Tow it Cris It's good you didnt flush it Cause I bet you that he touched it once or twice And stuck his thumb into his eye, well kdi I mean I dont know, he needs a row boat He's all over the road doe, swerves like a mofo Lying to the po-po One of these days Im gonna just go go Off on that mothafucka like an ex cop Vicodin, well let's pop Dropshot, molotov 'em when I'm offing the bottle We get to dropping the slaughter You think you hot? Then we solder We're taking shots, and you bought 'em bitch Bomb this shit, London I wont be the cop that got caught running I'm a be the one that shot the sandy hook gunman