[verse 1]
I’m desecratin’ everything you veneratin’
So don’t tell me who you dedicatin’ your shit too
I probably defecated right on they face out of spite
But knowin’ my luck, they was into golden showers and the like
Aite, you know the typical “you aint my type”
Meanwhile, the one I wanted is becomin’ a wife to another man
Just look at what I’m up against
Every man in my fam got a runnin’ tab at every pub
Heart strings I was tuggin’ at
Just snapped and I came second fiddle like Bullethead
To the Romeo Santanas - don’t even know damn manners
And still got mad bitches in Craftmatics
Me bein’ a prodigy caused mad havoc
You’re deep mobbin’ and you got deep pockets
But when it come to this rap shit I need coffins
Kill a MC target while I’m sleep walkin
And because I’m brown skinned President got briefed on it?!
Get a time machine tell him he won’t amount to shit
Kill his self-esteem, there he go smokin’ loud again
Did he inhale? Now who gives a fuck about the kid?

[hook]
Let’s get this shit jumpin’, I’m who you stuck with
Lookin’ for change but it still amount to nothin’
If you don’t fuck with Skepsys then kick buckets
If you don’t fuck with this shit then yo you buggin’

[verse 2]
Throw me an assist
I’m like Kobe with the passes
After puff puff I just wouldn’t pass it
Kicked out of the circle and can’t afford the habit for myself
So I had to stop smokin’
Aint got shit to brag about and can’t stop boastin’
That’s why I start rappin’ and can’t stop flowin’
Hit up Lindsay Lohan and tell her to start blowin’
Damn it, she thought I was talkin’ cocaine
But I’m the only rapper that’s not in the coke game
So how the fuck I’m (sup)’posed to profit off a hoe’s pain
God damn it was a dope day
Until I woke up and had to look at yo face
A blow up doll wouldn’t give me pussy for air
Laughed in my face and said to me grow me a pair
The coldest shoulder had to give me the chills
And that’s the reason that I’m here lookin’ for cheaper thrills

[hook]

[verse 3]
They said dyin’ in my sleep would be peaceful
Well they must’ve forgot my dreams are full of evil
In competition for how shitty they can treat you
And every night they double-back and get a damn redo
I probably had one too many days
I go to weight watchers lookin’ for Jenny Craig
And how the fuck I’m (sup)’posed to feel with blue testes and belly aches?
Testy to the say least, so give me death or give me space
And take a look into the nearest happy home
Make a book about the fucked up shit goin’ on
Publish it under the pseudonym of Peeping Tom
But yo the check cuttin’ could never get deep enough could it?
Cause a fly on any wall that you could put it
Is finna smell the shit and then it got to buzz to it
And I’mma be spewin’, shootin’ off at the mouth
That’s what I thought speakin’ my peace/piece was all about
I’m out

[hook]