(Who? Talkin' to, talkin' to.
Who is it? Who is it, who is it?
Talkin' to, talkin' to.
Talkin' to, talkin' to who is it?)

Yeah I'm talkin' to you!
Freeze, give it up mm
Geeze, that's enough
Breathe, lil bit of ooh
Sleaze, you're in my
Streets, rollin' up my
Trees, you got no
Steeze, run along bitch
Leave! Yeah I'm talkin' to you,
Freeze, give it up mm
Geeze, that's enough
Breathe, lil bit of ooh
Sleaze, you're in my
Streets, rollin' up my
Trees, you got no
Steeze, run along bitch
Leave, yeah I'm talkin' to you.

Greetings ladies and gentlemen my name is Ez Mil,
I'm fairly new to the game but I came to eat & kill.
Hope you don't think I'm insane cuz man I'm pretty chill,
So lemme drink this propane and down these sleeping pills.

Yeah,
Intoxication rules this hypocritic-nation,
What's a truer helping agent?
Than this media that's got us playin',
Got us wastin' our lives on
Superficial shit. Kinda like:

"I know I still don't got the budget for the groupie videos,
Where the booties are all shakin' from these stupid lil hoes."
I've been tryna send a message to a cupid on the low,
Prayin': "Please give me a bad bitch that can truly be my own!"
Yeah, scrollin' through the ways that the industry's tryna soak,
Through subconscious orchestration then they shove it down your throat.
Cultural manipulation's how they run it through the globe,
And they aim at all the brain-dead mothafuckaz and you know..

That it's you,
Freeze, give it up mm
Geeze, that's enough
Breathe, lil bit of ooh
Sleaze, you're in my
Streets, rollin' up my
Trees, you got no
Steeze, run along bitch
Leave! Yeah I'm talkin' to you,
Freeze, give it up mm
Geeze, that's enough
Breathe, lil bit of ooh
Sleaze, you're in my
Streets, rollin' up my
Trees, you got no
Steeze, run along bitch
Leave, yeah I'm talkin' bout:

Swiveling through my blind phase,
I'm cripple and new as I change.
The sickening news that rhyme's lame,
They picky and choose so I hate.
Hate, hate, hate.

I hate the miniature visions y'all have for your lives,
Like you don't have any pride,
Would you just open your eyes?

There's a whole plethora of music to choose,
But I guess the masses fuck with the
Artists loose in the screws.
Only scratchin' the surface that's brought through by YouTube and news
Scorching fire in the furnace of the youth who use it and loose the:

Portion of their cerebellum that prevents
Extortion of wanting inhalants influenced by
Foreign, public figure peasants who think they are
Soarin' like they're in the heavens. Mmm
Morbidly formin' a horrid moral story,
Scorin' the hordes in the lore of touring glory.
Ignorin' the hoards to thwart my quarry's priori,
Florid and borin' you whores roarin' "Sorry".

Yeah,
But apologies don't mean shit anymore than ever
So pedal to metal, livin' through my hustle and my bustle,
Turnin' every single speck of my struggle into
A definite lyrical muscle.
I will never be the kinda man that abandons my
Family because I'm feeling sad and get no reply,
I hope everything will end up bad for you
And you fuckin' commit suicide.
I ain't fuckin with you.

(I don't vibe with selfish mothafuckaz, I was raised by a family.
We had our differences, but those differences don't never
Make us quit bein' family. This is to all of you fake muthafuckaz)

Yeah I'm talkin to you!
Freeze, give it up mm
Geeze, that's enough
Breathe, lil bit of ooh
Sleaze, you're in my
Streets, rollin' up my
Trees, you got no
Steeze, bitch,
I ain't never fuckin' with you.