Somewhere some kid is bumpin’ this while he lip-syncs in the mirror When rap needed it most, I was that wing and a prayerĪ beacon of hope, put a B-I-R-D in the air Time to separate the sheep from goats (yeah)Īnd I got no faith in your writers, I don’t believe in ghosts Then give Album of the Year to somebody that no one’s ever even heard ofĪll I know is I wrote every single word of So they nominate ’em, get ’em there, get a name to MC the show They suck the blood from all the biggest artists like some leeches When I stole the show (ha), sorry if I took forever (haha)Īnd I’ll be here after you make your run-in for youĭetractors, I might have to fuck Pitchfork with a corkscrewĪnd then tell the Grammys to go and fuck themselves The fans waited for this moment like that feature
Whatever his name is to help you put together It’s because you worship D12’s balls, you’re sack-religious Tyler create nothin’, I see why you called yourself a (faggot), bitch My attack is vicious, Jack the Ripper, back in business This is how I shot ahead (pew)-Gabby Giffords Stackin’ ammunition, slap the clip and cock it back on competition You know me better, thinkin’ I’ll slow or let upĭre said, “Hold your head up!”-Kathy Griffin Lackin’ with it, “he ain’t spittin’ like this on his last shit” Like you had it when you thought you had me slippin’ at the tellyĮven when I’m gettin’ brain, you’ll never catch me with a thot Say this shit is trash again, I’ll have you twisted The closest thing he’s had to hits is smackin’ bitchesĪnd don’t make me have to give it back to Akademiks Somebody tell Budden before I snap, he better fasten it
I can take all of you motherfuckers on at once I’m sick and tired of waitin’, I done lost my patience Maybe I just don’t know when to turn around and walk awayīut all the hate, I call it “Walk on Water” gate Next minute, they get their style from Migos or they copy Drake If my response is late, it’s just how long it takes You’d swear to God I forgot I’m the guy that made “Not Afraid” They won’t tell me what not to say (nope) In that first marijuana tape-guess I got a chronic case (yeah)Īnd I ain’t just blowin’ smoke, ‘less it’s in your momma’s face Went from addict to a workaholic, word to Dr. Got no time to waste, I’m already late, I got a marathoner’s pace Gotta concentrate, against the clock I race Three’s not a crowd all up in it, slow fire Maybe it’s time I tell ’em what I think about themĬan’t hear it coming down the hallway stairs from the parking lot You know, everybody’s been tellin’ me what they think about me for the last few months
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