[chorus] 2x

People like myself, only hang with self cause that's the way to go

I can't go outside without findin some new kinfolks

People on my left, people on my right, all in my earhole

Make me be like whoa and find me somewhere else to go



It's Mag from your TV screen, buzzin off the Jim Beam

But the Mag y'all think y'all know ain't what I seem

I'm a low-down freak from Seapeak(?)

See them high school mates, I see 'em and don't speak

All y'all wanna talk like we used to hang

Cause I'm doin my thang, now you wanna bask in my fame

That's why I stay out the club, be in the crib

Smokin a dub, countin my cash, over the phone

And I'm sellin cell phones, all with chips

My nine to bloods, my glock to crips, who want war?

You and your boys can bring the noise

But I'ma bring hand grenades, now you're laid!

Pull out my dick, piss on your bitch-ass

Sit on your face, now you gotta kiss ass

Who fiend for fame life belong to your fans

and haters and thugs that wanna end your lifespan



[chorus] 2x

People like myself, only hang with self cause that's the way to go

I can't go outside without findin some new kinfolks

People on my left, people on my right, all in my earhole

Make me be like whoa and find me somewhere else to go



Uhh, uhh, uhh - since I got bigger (bigger)

I'm over here and y'all recite Tim's my nigga (nigga)

Like I just figure (figure)

And my tracks didn't help niggaz

So for rememdy I pound niggaz

Like I keep 'em in DJ's for that new Jigga

Like them forty-two Girbauds

I pocket every demo, like Timbaland - he's that next nigga

Confirmed by people that she can blow

Convinced Booker T she's the next to go-ac