Yeah! I don’t know what else to say I can’t, I can’t think of nothin' I’m stumped, here we go! On your feet! Stand up! Everybody hands up! Uh, man, I don't know man Every time I go to think of something played out to say You already said it

I ain't callin' 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 their hands tied, feet ball and chained up Niggas be quick to call me the new 50 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 'bout to fall out with a young buck While I attempt to fuck the fuckin' game up Bitch, splat! Only thing I fear in here is chit-chat You are hearin' bars like your ear against a Kit Kat Shady guys like the Navy, try us, wavey bye-bye Maybe my Glock can turn your top to Baby's Maybach My shit is parvo, literally sick Trust me, nigga, it's ugly to kill; the thing is, the bigger I get The more disgustin' 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 starin' in your postbox Only incense he enlightens when he's thinkin' While that sinks in, I got a Brinks ink pen I'm back! Motherfucker, 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? If I said it, I did it If I didn't, I seen it first-hand like a card 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 Makin' the mistake was like my only teacher Wait 'til they get a load of me, 'cause—

I've got Guccis 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, ayy I'm at a loss for words, 'cause y'all already said it all I think I'm runnin' outta clichés I'm gettin' writers 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'm 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 wit' ya When she with me, she bobbin', not vibin' Tryna put her mind into the inside of my zipper I'm a serpent 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 If the fire 'round the circle's right in front of them, fire rounds Pun intended, gun extended, what are you marks askin'? Car's Aston, started as a hard-top and I saw past it Since I decided to start class, this 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 be blocked and reported as spam Interscope, I been this dope Now 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: Tryin' not to take your bitch or tryna get rid of my own

I've got Guccis 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, ayy I'm at a loss for words, 'cause y'all already said it all I think I'm runnin' outta clichés I'm gettin' writers 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!