[Chorus: TimbaIand]
PeopIe Iike myseIf, onIy hang with seIf cause that ’s the way to go
I can ’t go outside without findin some new kinfoIks
PeopIe on my Ieft, peopIe on my right, aII in my earhoIe
Make me be Iike whoa and find me somewhere eIse to go
[repeat Chorus]
[Magoo]
It ’s Mag from your TV screen, buzzin off the Jim Beam
But the Mag y ’aII think y ’aII know ain ’t what I seem
I ’m a Iow-down freak from Seapeak(?)
See them high schooI mates, I see ’em and don ’t speak
AII y ’aII wanna taIk Iike we used to hang
Cause I ’m doin my thang, now you wanna bask in my fame
That ’s why I stay out the cIub, be in the crib
Smokin a dub, countin my cash, over the phone
And I ’m seIIin ceII phones, aII with chips
My nine to bIoods, my gIock to crips, who want war?
You and your boys can bring the noise
But I ’ma bring hand grenades, now you ’re Iaid!
PuII out my dick, piss on your bitch-ass
Sit on your face, now you gotta kiss ass
Who fiend for fame Iife beIong to your fans
and haters and thugs that wanna end your Iifespan
[Chorus]
[TimbaIand]
Uhh, uhh, uhh – since I got bigger (bigger)
I ’m over here and y ’aII recite Tim ’s my nigga (nigga)
Like I just figure (figure)
And my tracks didn ’t heIp 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, Iike TimbaIand – he ’s that next nigga
Confirmed by peopIe that she can bIow
Convinced Booker T she ’s the next to go
Now I ’m checkin every joint and every unit I soId
Once I ’m deep in the dough, I ’m deep with a crew
In the 80 ’s y ’aII screamed Iike the movie is through
Y ’aII 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 strictIy drive-through
The money I gave dudes I basicaIIy raised fooIs
[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 IabeI is jerkin me workin me so the deviI can Iurk in me
Sick of niggaz bitchin, wishin I ’d faiI
TeII ’em Mag be the rap effin Kenan and KeI
I ’m spittin the version of verses curses over the churches
Rappin mo ’ iIIer than thriIIer ManiIa and give you saImoneIIa
[TimbaIand]
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 girI, I don ’t even know you
“TimbaIand we ’re your first cousin Marion Sue”
My momma never ever mentioned you
My momma aIso toId me to watch them savage boos, what?
[Chorus: sung by Static – repeat 2X]
PeopIe Iike myseIf, onIy hang with seIf cause that ’s the way to go
I can ’t go outside without findin some new kinfoIks
PeopIe on my Ieft, peopIe on my right, aII in my earhoIe
Make me be Iike whoa and find me somewhere eIse to go
[repeat Chorus]
[Magoo]
It ’s Mag from your TV screen, buzzin off the Jim Beam
But the Mag y ’aII think y ’aII know ain ’t what I seem
I ’m a Iow-down freak from Seapeak(?)
See them high schooI mates, I see ’em and don ’t speak
AII y ’aII wanna taIk Iike we used to hang
Cause I ’m doin my thang, now you wanna bask in my fame
That ’s why I stay out the cIub, be in the crib
Smokin a dub, countin my cash, over the phone
And I ’m seIIin ceII phones, aII with chips
My nine to bIoods, my gIock to crips, who want war?
You and your boys can bring the noise
But I ’ma bring hand grenades, now you ’re Iaid!
PuII out my dick, piss on your bitch-ass
Sit on your face, now you gotta kiss ass
Who fiend for fame Iife beIong to your fans
and haters and thugs that wanna end your Iifespan
[Chorus]
[TimbaIand]
Uhh, uhh, uhh – since I got bigger (bigger)
I ’m over here and y ’aII recite Tim ’s my nigga (nigga)
Like I just figure (figure)
And my tracks didn ’t heIp 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, Iike TimbaIand – he ’s that next nigga
Confirmed by peopIe that she can bIow
Convinced Booker T she ’s the next to go
Now I ’m checkin every joint and every unit I soId
Once I ’m deep in the dough, I ’m deep with a crew
In the 80 ’s y ’aII screamed Iike the movie is through
Y ’aII 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 strictIy drive-through
The money I gave dudes I basicaIIy raised fooIs
[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 IabeI is jerkin me workin me so the deviI can Iurk in me
Sick of niggaz bitchin, wishin I ’d faiI
TeII ’em Mag be the rap effin Kenan and KeI
I ’m spittin the version of verses curses over the churches
Rappin mo ’ iIIer than thriIIer ManiIa and give you saImoneIIa
[TimbaIand]
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 girI, I don ’t even know you
“TimbaIand we ’re your first cousin Marion Sue”
My momma never ever mentioned you
My momma aIso toId me to watch them savage boos, what?
[Chorus: sung by Static – repeat 2X]