I'm still here, still thuggin the sour game We gonna do it again, keep that tartness sustained. Our brewers are straight playas, never do the same thing twice, They bust out bad brews, always rollin'the dice. Dry pilsner malts, crisp it up with wheat, Lactobacillus, these malts will then meet. Nectorious was a fool, soured like little snitches, Me, I'm smoother, super lady peaches. I'll let that necta know it's on for life, Hallertau Traditional rides the night. Bad brews soured on fruit for the thrill, Mess with me and you get your peaches peeled. They who sipped me, punks couldn't wait to finish, now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace, peaches, I tart 'em up...