timbaland
people like myself
[chorus: timbaland] 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 be like whoa and find me somewhere else to go [repeat chorus] [magoo] 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] [timbaland] 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 Now i'm checkin every joint and every unit i sold Once i'm deep in the dough, i'm deep with a crew In the 80's y'all screamed like the movie is through Y'all screamin this is nutty professor: part ii To eyes wide shut to whoever i choose I can appreciate a kidman to a, tom cruise To a, fast food, i'm strictly drive-through The money i gave dudes i basically raised fools [chorus] [magoo] Even the phone spit it, god know what i'm thinkin I'm drinkin and smokin and stressin, go to church for confession Down on my knees, beggin to god, show me the path My label is jerkin me workin me so the devil can lurk in me Sick of niggaz bitchin, wishin i'd fail Tell 'em mag be the rap effin kenan and kel I'm spittin the version of verses curses over the churches Rappin mo' iller than thriller manila and give you salmonella [timbaland] Stop, the press! Bitch, you can't afford that dress, you can't afford that hairdo I don't want your sex, here take your fast food Tim you're dead wrong, tim you're dead rude! Hey girl, i don't even know you Timbaland we're your first cousin marion sue My momma never ever mentioned you My momma also told me to watch them savage boos, what? [chorus: sung by static - repeat 2x]