Verse 1:] Jump on the beat to get this, everybody wanna skip this I'm the kind of menace that you witness With a hit-list, leave you witless When you hear my wit hit but you miss it Lift these bars over heads with fitness I'm too legit to quit it, you're too lit to get it My mob of weirdos ain't afraid of your mafia Say what you like, there's nothing to stopping yah First impressions kinda hard for this guy Maybe I'll get it on the third or fourth try. 'Cause ifnyou don't understand the things I Will put the pen to the pad to show why I don't cry. I think that everybody wanna pass up on the bitter pill That they ain't gonna slap on every beat, sorry I would slow it down but I prefer to gas it up I'm going fast so maybe play me on repeat, Ferrari Why am I shouting out a car though? Wouldn't even buy it if I could afford the cargo Never gonna try it, burning money is a no-go So go off in my truck for some froyo I'm a nerdy ass kid with some white skin Why'd they wanna know what blood runs in my kin? Label on a label and you're labelling the label Try to turn humanity into a box to fit your fable I think I'm turning unstable, but I'm able To put this in a rhyme and try to turn the tables But the turn tables that I used to turn Were the tables for the records that the kids aren't gonna spin, so the rotation is burned CD-R, but there's no CD player in my car Just MP3, woe is me, don't take this old man seriously You think the whole verse was random, I see You don't understand the path of the ADHD But the aching in me is forsaking my needs So I can crack jokes for the folks who don't want to see Is it time for the hook? Well, I really don't care Got no time, gotta cook it, anybody out there? All the haters try to book it when I'm sparking my flare Unprepared for the meaning of emotionless stares I'm going up the down staircase Walking to my rhythm, I'll get on my own case Flocking when I give 'em a reason to showcase But so many missing the reason I don't show face Everything has to come to an end Never wore the mask just to try to pretend I'll put it back on, not a gimmick or a trend But a little bit of me, well, I guess I'm gonna lend I know how they are all acting like my bars and my flow are lacking You don't get the heat that I'm packing because all you do is keep on acting Every single one of you plays the same thug Flex on what you gonna do like you need hugged Bitch I know where I'm walking, so when I drop in, you keep talking You're squawking at a fool who rocked the streets of Compton You drop a diss for a fanbase, I see your songs as a damn waste These talented phonies are leaving a bad taste. But I'm a Loser All I got is bruised hurt All I did is brew her As I flirt to skirt around the dirt. Guess this is the part where I'm meant to switch direction Drop a perfect flow, give the fanboys an erection But my selection needs to be done a little more carefully Cause you invariably compare me to these other guys who are barely a C- All the things I hate about me, but you see: I'm phenomenally nominating, this nominal nonsense-spewing rapper, that's me You hear my trolling voice but it's done by choice, but you are trapped in your rat race Stuffing your space with your rhymes that die at the surface without any purpose While you efface your own case that contained all your grace You left with a vase that you lost in this pit With your sad face as you stab backs you used to embrace And while you struggle to stand out a bit This weirdo you resent will stay on top and still be there when you decide to quit And that's the hardest part of it Regardless of any heart you thought you put into it I'm the guy with the art in his cart, and you can't buy this shit. I don't really make songs like this, shits just not my style But I guess I should play the clown for a while. Be an MC, got it, nah. Not Master of ceremonies Call me Energy because I'm better than TWO OF Y'ALL! Don't get it? SMD Think you get it? KMA Can't see me Too far down Guess I'm rambling, you probably lost now? Let's do something you understand Pills Pistols Pretty women Hundred dollars Gucci Prada Is that all you gotta say to make it? Fuck that, that's fake clout, not what I'm about. I'm just a goofy loser A bafoon to choose to learn I'm roofied to my loose terms A monsoon made of booze So leave me be to stir in my hurt... Loser... Loser... Loser... Loser...
