Yeah, yeah I don't know what else to say I can't, I can't think of nothin' I'm stumped Here we go (Here we go) On your feet (On your feet) Stand up (Stand up) Everybody hands up (Hands up) Uh, man, I dunno, man Every time I go to think of something played out to say You already said it I ain't calling names cause all of y'all the same, plus I'm the king, all my past pain all done changed up All these plains, all these lames, since the Slaughter's came up Cause they know they hands tied, feet ball and chained up Niggas be quick to call me the new Fifty Cent Because of my relationship with Marshall Used to make me a little partial, but here's the brain fuck We the same 'cause I'm probably about to fall out with a young buck While I attempt to fuck the fucking game up Bitch, splat, only thing I fear in here is chit-chat You are hearing bars like your ear against a Kit Kat Shady guys like the Navy, drive, wavy bye-bye Maybe my Glock can turn your top to baby's Maybach My shit is powerful, literally sick, trust me nigga It's ugly to kill a thing if the bigger I get The more disgusting and fuckin' disfigured it gets Niggas expect me to go pop, oh, stop Y'all about the champagne, I'm about the toast I, only fuck with mailmen with heroin from Boca Niggas that'll smoke you while you staring in your postbox Only incense he enlightens when he's thinkin' While that sinks in, I got a Brinks ink pen I'm back, muthafucker Notice the flyness on the cover of the XXL I'm back from the dead like Tobey Maguire from the Brothers How y'all realer? (How y'all realer?) If I said it, I did it If I didn't, I seen it first-hand like a car dealer Give up the throne, your lease up, I am the Mona Lisa That decoded Da Vinci Code, you throwin' your piece up Is a waste of fake like a phony B-cup Nigga, the mistake was like my only teacher Wait 'til they get a load of me 'cause I've got Gucci's on my feet Diamonds on my neck Diamonds on my wrist Bitches on my dick But y'all already said that Choppers in the trunk Models in the front Bottles in the club But I don't give a fuck But y'all already said that Cause sometimes I feel like it's so hard For me to come up with shit to say (Ay) I'm at a loss for words 'cause y'all already said it all I think I'm runnin' out of cliches I'm gettin' writer's block Psyche! When I stand up in this booth, niggas notice it Sittin' on the same boat that Noah built Floatin' on the same water Moses split Poetry in motion, but we sittin' on your grave site, overkill Aren't you tired? Why are you so loud? Quiet! Real dudes move in silence like a mute drivin' a new hybrid You dudes is too excited You a dude that'd try to sue a dude that's suicidal You will just be another victim I am like a nickel of weed rolled in a doobie, I'm a little twisted I roll like the end credits in movies, y'all just got scripted Got y'all niggas' bitches bobbin' to this one when she witcha When she wit' me, she bobbin', not vibin' Tryna put her mind into the inside of my zipper I'm a sperate with a purpose, havin' problems? Not a problem I've encountered I have found elephants, lions, clowns Will jump through hoops like they workin' for the circus At the fire round the circle's right in front of them, fire rounds Pun intended, gun extended, what are you mark's askin'? Car's Aston, started as a hard-top and I saw past it Since I decided to start Class diss All black, all glass, panoramic roof been gettin' marked absent I authorize my own all-access Your bitch a whore, I'm a catch, she ball-catchin' Her jaw's been broadcasted all across the globe from the store to Japan Her pussy need to blocked and reported as spam Bong! Interscope up in this dope and I sell it My voicemail is full, got bitches screamin' inside of envelopes And they tryna mail 'em to me, tryna reach my phone I don't know which one is harder Tryna not to take your bitch or tryna get rid of my own I got Gucci's on my feet Diamonds on my neck Diamonds on my wrist Bitches on my dick But y'all already said that Choppers in the trunk Models in the front Bottles in the club But I don't give a fuck But y'all already said that Cause sometimes I feel like it's so hard For me to come up with shit to say (ay) I'm at a loss for words 'cause y'all already said it all I think I'm runnin' out of cliches I'm gettin' writer's block Psyche! Man, get the bozac We need to start bringin' that shit back (Mad flava) Man, fuck it, I'm 'bout to catch some wreck (We in effect, money!) Mad props to Royce for keepin' it real On the strength, no diggity I'm 'bout to go pull some hoes, get my mack on Haters get the gas face!