They talking to me like...
They talking to me, right?
Ye shall be blessed if thou worketh
So for fifty two weeks, I showed you my style perfect
Once in a while, one of the realest niggas shall surface
I'm C.O.B., plus I slaughtered all the house verses
It's foul circus, I vow to hold it down
It's my proud purpose
When the crowd purchase my sound, make yours sound malnourished
My mouth curses, please excuse the views
Only four letter word I never use is "lose"
Slaughterhouse headlines, yeah my crew's the news
Domestic violence and pet names, yeah we abusing booths
Better store the metaphors
Nigga, remember these similies
So when you say you're better off yelling — nigga, please
By any means necessary I became legendary on the Internet
And my next block is fucking your desktop
Like having sex with a secretary — you get it, Jack?
My intellect is a ball, brains given to me by teachers
Who predicted I'd be homeless bumming a cigarette — huh
You got me mixed like the letters when a dyslexic send a text
This is where my destiny interjects
In the 'jects where the gats bang
I'm fresh off B.E.T, but looking like I crack slang
What up, homie?
I think I'm living like the bosses deserve
Cause I'm the C.E.O. of my balls and my word
I'm burying beats in the cemetery dirt
Abusing the music like the producers should've sent it to me first
Tracks get shat on like toilets get sat on
Beats get spat on, Long Beach hat on
The top five, least I see myself inside
Cause who fucking with us — "us" being me, myself, and I?
Yeah, I'm sending rappers to the afterlife
You arrogant cowards — you a dick and a pussy, you a hermaphrodite
I'm something soft in this game, that's what they acting like
Nigga, I'm from the gutter where a G.E.D. is a bragging right
And some nigga named Marvin describes the appetite
A sea on a horse, a hundred watt bulb
That's my description when I grab a mic
Cause I'm high as a satellite
You haters get your chatter right
Young'un, I been here a while
I could've been a quitter a long time ago
Bitter a long time ago
But if success is a bitch, Crooked is gon find the ho
She can hide, I'm seek her like "Eeny-miny-mo"
Too many rap verbals around you dummies
I'm like them rubber bands on a hundred g
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