I don't fuck wit' people, I know that I cain't trust
Last time that I did it, it sucked like a bang bus
Thought that we were family like brothers and play 'cause
Really, it was nothing but haters
Who ain't nuthin' more than the fake love
They spread like rumors in Vegas
I feel like we live in a world, that's so consumed by the fakest
I leave 'em hangin' like a curl, when I'm in the face of the fakeness
You ain't the king of the underground, 'cause you live in a basement
Face it!
You took my style, copied, and paste it
I realized, backspaced, and erased it
I feel eyes, replicate the hatred
From their minds, straight to all their faces
I covered all of my bases, so they don't bite my shit
'Cuz they cain't entertain us, if they ain't got Twiztid
Tell me, how could you blame us, if you're the one who missed it?
When we told you a hun'nid times, but you wouldn't listen?
Plain and simple, like the pimples on ya' bitches booty
I ain't gotta ask, she just give it to me
Sometimes, I feel like I'm livin' in a movie
I know we should give a fuck, but do we?
Reach for the stars like, Lucas on Stilts!
You can tell me, how a legacy's built!
I'm the industry's Scary Terry, get yo' dreams kilt!
Cause we're living in a very, very, hateful world of guilt
Muthafucka, I'm a prodigy with a lot on my mind
Multiple personalities, make it hard for me decide
If success is the same old ladder, I wanna climb
But I stay dropping shit, till it plug up in the pipeline
Now we don't accept L's, two heads are better than none
Kenan and Kel, no we're not braggin'
New attitude like P-Label, enter the dragon, run off the ledge, or sink, or sail
Tell 'em to bring wooden planks, hammers, and nails
Intending to crucify something, that no longer sells
Calling us devils, when they' the ones that's close to Hell
Excessive brutality, and the need to over-kill
And wonder why nobody give a fuck, is how they feel
Game split, used to be about who you were, or run wit'
Now, they out fo' self an' finn'a sell you out to get
Head-over-heels in a game, that's faker than a bitch
With prosthetic credit, so many claiming God's gift
But, more like a stable-hand, rather than a wordsmith
Cletus Cassidy, in the brain, Eddie Brock, when I spit
Life of a lunatic, that don't really give a shit
An' wanna smack you, like their bitch
Live in fear 'cause, the fear living everywhere
Static blur, channel change, message interfere
In my mind, hit delete, and CLEAR!!!!
I'm on a mission to get it (clear...)
I'm on a mission to get it
Out of my head!
I'm on a mission to get it (clear...!)
I'm on a mission to get it (clear...!)
Outta my head!
I'm on a mission to get it (clear!)
I'm on a mission to get it (yo!)
I'm on a mission to get it (yo! Clear...!)
I'm on a mission to get it (clear...!)
Outta my head, clear!