Picture me tryin' to prove myself Like I'm convinced a shot of vodka would improve my health Or move my wealth to seven-hundred-and-four figures Got more niggas tryin' to hate on my flow than Rah Digga Bigger balls than last year, I'm cocky as ever And more fly than a box of Czechoslovakian sweaters When I hop in the Jetta I put my CD on blast If you don't like me nigga fuck you, kiss my ass I ain't got nothin' to prove, so you can beat it Niggas heated when I breathe on the mic, I'm so conceited I give a shit if you don't like what I'm rappin' Go back to your rims, your grills, your pills, your ice and your trappin' Y'all ignorant niggas, y'all need help Don't you know my track record? Man it speaks for itself I kept the best beats for myself My instrumentals out of reach on the shelf You can't touch me I don't need to prove myself I don't need to prove myself How many times must I tell ya? Catering to everyone turns you to a failure That's why I don't get mad when they say that I'm wack Or hate on my tracks, talkin' all that shit in my ear, yeah Get off my dick and tell your bitch to come here The first cat to drop an album and get rich in one year Got more status in my pinky than Patricia Romer' In her whole career Charismatic with a capital K The Smooth Kriminal is back to put the wackness to shame It didn't have to happen this way But I got sick of niggas rappin' the same You need practice mayne I'm in a class of my own The rap game's George Thorogood, I'm +Bad To The Bone+ I'm glad to be home, quit talkin' all that trash on the phone Don't call me with that bullshit, you can rap to the tone Holla I give a fuck who you battled against Underground/mainstream, yo I straddle the fence When I step up to the mic, all the kids say "wow" I'll bet you're probably gonna want me on your mixtape now It's great how a dude tries to do his own thing Tries to spread his own wings then a diss breaks out First album that I dropped was a classic Took it to the radio and then they tried to trash it Callin' me a lame but really I'm the last sick Nigga with a habit of kickin' niggas asses quick And I don't really give a fuck about who's tough You'd figure that the lyrics that I'm spittin' would be proof enough But no; if I ain't talkin' 'bout 'caine-sniffin' Wood grain-grippin', lane-switchin', bangin' the fifth Then I ain't really sayin' shit or D. Swain is a bitch But I ain't changin' what I spit until D. Swain is richer than you The fuck I gotta listen to you for? You niggas swear you're too hardcore, I'm havin' fun with this shit
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Copy to Clipboard: Picture me tryin' to prove myself Like I'm convinced a shot of vodka would improve my health Or move my wealth to seven-hundred-and-four figures Got more niggas tryin' to hate on my flow than Rah Digga Bigger balls than last year, I'm cocky as ever And more fly than a box of Czechoslovakian sweaters When I hop in the Jetta I put my CD on blast If you don't like me nigga fuck you, kiss my ass I ain't got nothin' to prove, so you can beat it Niggas heated when I breathe on the mic, I'm so conceited I give a shit if you don't like what I'm rappin' Go back to your rims, your grills, your pills, your ice and your trappin' Y'all ignorant niggas, y'all need help Don't you know my track record? Man it speaks for itself I kept the best beats for myself My instrumentals out of reach on the shelf You can't touch me I don't need to prove myself I don't need to prove myself How many times must I tell ya? Catering to everyone turns you to a failure That's why I don't get mad when they say that I'm wack Or hate on my tracks, talkin' all that shit in my ear, yeah Get off my dick and tell your bitch to come here The first cat to drop an album and get rich in one year Got more status in my pinky than Patricia Romer' In her whole career Charismatic with a capital K The Smooth Kriminal is back to put the wackness to shame It didn't have to happen this way But I got sick of niggas rappin' the same You need practice mayne I'm in a class of my own The rap game's George Thorogood, I'm +Bad To The Bone+ I'm glad to be home, quit talkin' all that trash on the phone Don't call me with that bullshit, you can rap to the tone Holla I give a fuck who you battled against Underground/mainstream, yo I straddle the fence When I step up to the mic, all the kids say "wow" I'll bet you're probably gonna want me on your mixtape now It's great how a dude tries to do his own thing Tries to spread his own wings then a diss breaks out First album that I dropped was a classic Took it to the radio and then they tried to trash it Callin' me a lame but really I'm the last sick Nigga with a habit of kickin' niggas asses quick And I don't really give a fuck about who's tough You'd figure that the lyrics that I'm spittin' would be proof enough But no; if I ain't talkin' 'bout 'caine-sniffin' Wood grain-grippin', lane-switchin', bangin' the fifth Then I ain't really sayin' shit or D. Swain is a bitch But I ain't changin' what I spit until D. Swain is richer than you The fuck I gotta listen to you for? You niggas swear you're too hardcore, I'm havin' fun with this shit
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