作曲 : Sage Francis [Verse 1:] (I talk a lot of ****t, but I can back it all the **** up) I don' talk about it really, but I’m still the illest Still the baddest Bless the apparatus I got silverback gorilla status I pull the one red string that runs through your mattress And make your bed springs sing a song of sadness Sad sack of ****t, pack your things and go I’m hopping freight trains with nothing but a bindle (no hobo) Little homie said ‘'YOLO’‘ — no props I photobomb your photo ops busting out the robocop Teach me how to dougie, kid, I’d rather do the knowledge Now go home and get your ****ne box, you got a couple shoes to polish Undergrad, this ain’t no humblebrag I’ve sung one too many Johnny come latelies, now baby come to dad Cause he don’t need no cheat code to go beast mode All he really needs is a M-I-C to freak flow (I talk a lot of ****t, but I can back it all the **** up) I’m a runner up, if I’m not top billing, I’m show stealing Sistine Chapel vandal type, tag the whole ceiling Sick of hearing rap with no feeling Sick of trauma porn addicts thinking they’re poets, that’s not soul bearing Break yourself, fix your face My heartbeat breaks the 808’s, now update your database So many Roc Raida tapes, not enough functional dual cassette decks Who will you sweat next? Stupid, I maneuver through a school full of rednecks Some people I was cool with despite a few death threats Sacrificed a social life, food and some rent checks So I can grab a mic where the hell ever I like, and catch wreck Yeah, I’ve got swung on from time to time Been cornered in some clubs just for speaking my mind Mental midgets couldn’t come up with the lyrics and rhymes Now I’m back popping more ****t than ever and I’m fine Find me if you need me, son, I’m easy to locate You finally gon' feed me then I’m eating that whole cake Got license in movies and TV, that’s so great Don’t break your coke-nail trying to throw weight, okay Curb stomp your enthusiasm Don’t expect resolutions just cause every movie has ‘em Don’t expect revolution from the music That is solely created for the sake of booty clapping Fool, keep rapping Release the kraken, beat back the back beat Planning instrumentals, running my mouth at the track meet My victory lap shows no mercy in this dojo Spinning back, kick the Willie Bobo Sweep the head, breaking bread with the best of 'em Crumbs are left under the table for the rest of 'em I don’t speak in metaphysics cause I’m not a metaphysicist I’ll diss the living ****t out of these so called lyricists **** y'all [Hook:] (Y’ll don’t like it, kiss my ass you don’t like it, this my house ‘Cause we don't need no cheat codes to go beast mode All he really needs is a M-I-C to freak flow) [Verse 2:] Excuse me for having ethics, I don’t eff with little toys I learned to scratch on phonographs [?] A killjoy, crying over spilled soy milk I destroy the ****t brick house that you droids built You walk tall ‘til I kick out your stilts Buff 'til I call your bluff and pull up your kilt You’ve been padding your resume While I’ve been rhyming about life like I’m rapping my death away Stay well composed, figuratively, literally They prefer a hashtag to metaphor, simile Brag-rap to poetry, backtrack to symphony Sweet talk the sour puss press and push bitterly The kids are getting degraded, they ain’t diminish me Oh uh, but they prefer the skinny me I’m an emotional leader of the emcees who sit in salt **** being complicated, Uncle Sage is difficult It’s a cult of personality stuck in a false reality It’s all a bunch of mall punk and dance club rap to me Swagger jacking, black cracker, battle rap is gone minstrel Born on third base acting like they hit a triple With a wiffleball bat walking pretty, talking pretty With no act, in fact, it’s all theory I promised you death threats, don’t actually kill me But bite my dog, I'mma scratch your kitty [Outro:] It’s like that, y'all, it’s like that, y'all It’s like that-that-that, it’s like that, y'all It’s like that, y'all, it’s like that, y'all It’s like that-that-that, it’s like that, y'all Talk ****t
作曲 : Sage Francis [Verse 1:] (I talk a lot of ****t, but I can back it all the **** up) I don' talk about it really, but I’m still the illest Still the baddest Bless the apparatus I got silverback gorilla status I pull the one red string that runs through your mattress And make your bed springs sing a song of sadness Sad sack of ****t, pack your things and go I’m hopping freight trains with nothing but a bindle (no hobo) Little homie said ‘'YOLO’‘ — no props I photobomb your photo ops busting out the robocop Teach me how to dougie, kid, I’d rather do the knowledge Now go home and get your ****ne box, you got a couple shoes to polish Undergrad, this ain’t no humblebrag I’ve sung one too many Johnny come latelies, now baby come to dad Cause he don’t need no cheat code to go beast mode All he really needs is a M-I-C to freak flow (I talk a lot of ****t, but I can back it all the **** up) I’m a runner up, if I’m not top billing, I’m show stealing Sistine Chapel vandal type, tag the whole ceiling Sick of hearing rap with no feeling Sick of trauma porn addicts thinking they’re poets, that’s not soul bearing Break yourself, fix your face My heartbeat breaks the 808’s, now update your database So many Roc Raida tapes, not enough functional dual cassette decks Who will you sweat next? Stupid, I maneuver through a school full of rednecks Some people I was cool with despite a few death threats Sacrificed a social life, food and some rent checks So I can grab a mic where the hell ever I like, and catch wreck Yeah, I’ve got swung on from time to time Been cornered in some clubs just for speaking my mind Mental midgets couldn’t come up with the lyrics and rhymes Now I’m back popping more ****t than ever and I’m fine Find me if you need me, son, I’m easy to locate You finally gon' feed me then I’m eating that whole cake Got license in movies and TV, that’s so great Don’t break your coke-nail trying to throw weight, okay Curb stomp your enthusiasm Don’t expect resolutions just cause every movie has ‘em Don’t expect revolution from the music That is solely created for the sake of booty clapping Fool, keep rapping Release the kraken, beat back the back beat Planning instrumentals, running my mouth at the track meet My victory lap shows no mercy in this dojo Spinning back, kick the Willie Bobo Sweep the head, breaking bread with the best of 'em Crumbs are left under the table for the rest of 'em I don’t speak in metaphysics cause I’m not a metaphysicist I’ll diss the living ****t out of these so called lyricists **** y'all [Hook:] (Y’ll don’t like it, kiss my ass you don’t like it, this my house ‘Cause we don't need no cheat codes to go beast mode All he really needs is a M-I-C to freak flow) [Verse 2:] Excuse me for having ethics, I don’t eff with little toys I learned to scratch on phonographs [?] A killjoy, crying over spilled soy milk I destroy the ****t brick house that you droids built You walk tall ‘til I kick out your stilts Buff 'til I call your bluff and pull up your kilt You’ve been padding your resume While I’ve been rhyming about life like I’m rapping my death away Stay well composed, figuratively, literally They prefer a hashtag to metaphor, simile Brag-rap to poetry, backtrack to symphony Sweet talk the sour puss press and push bitterly The kids are getting degraded, they ain’t diminish me Oh uh, but they prefer the skinny me I’m an emotional leader of the emcees who sit in salt **** being complicated, Uncle Sage is difficult It’s a cult of personality stuck in a false reality It’s all a bunch of mall punk and dance club rap to me Swagger jacking, black cracker, battle rap is gone minstrel Born on third base acting like they hit a triple With a wiffleball bat walking pretty, talking pretty With no act, in fact, it’s all theory I promised you death threats, don’t actually kill me But bite my dog, I'mma scratch your kitty [Outro:] It’s like that, y'all, it’s like that, y'all It’s like that-that-that, it’s like that, y'all It’s like that, y'all, it’s like that, y'all It’s like that-that-that, it’s like that, y'all Talk ****t
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