 And if you don't want me, I don't really. Well, it's automatic. Honey, shots towards the dogmatic are static. For the niggas that be thinking they could reform fascists. While we itching, they be bitching about the wrong manners. Guerrilla war tactics. Yeah, the fight for the truth. For you bitching by the truth. Mama ain't wave, no slouch. All nine, Gaddafi yelling, fuck your couch. Pastel blues in the south.