Question: tell me how you feel about me
I write my own lyrics and I make my own beats
I got my own tricks and I do my own stunts
Can't name another b**h that could do it so c*nt
I'm always so blunt, so you cannot take
f**in' with Michete? that's a big mistake
Cause it's verbal armaggedon when I get up on a track
I'm bout to leave 'em in their feelings and I'm never holdin' back
f** what you heard, cause I'm here to state facts
See 'em gettin' mad cause I got what they lack
Yeah I'm talkin' bout bars, I got 'em for days
Happy Meal sh**, got me lookin' gourmet
I'm an Ivy League b**h, now you lookin' fourth grade
Cause I'm colder than a double rainbow sorbet
Could I be more gay? yaaaas!
Everybody in the club say yaaaas!
All the b**hes gather round like yaaaas!
Got your girlfriend screaming out yaaaas!
Uh, these b**hes live for me
'Chete gettin' to the fame and the infamy
And so these down-low f*ggots wanna get with me
But I would never let a f**boy sit with me
Nope, been bad since Haddaway
And I'm known to get buck like Tampa Bay
Always hit my mark, no Antonay
Stay smokin' motherf**ers like a pack a day
But you ain't getting no accolades
Cause your brain more hollow than a bag of Lay's
So I end a weak b**h like Saturday
And then I kick back and watch anime
When I spit my verse
I pile up the bodies, leave 'em in my hearse
I don't play nice, I go the f** off
I let my haters know they can really f** off
I never tell a lie, everything I say is true
I'm a real b**h, can't say the same about you
Now, see you on your f**boy sh**
f**boy smile on your f**boy lips
f**boy style and your f**boy kicks
In a f**boy pile with your f**boy clique
f**boy
Damn right, you ain't nothin but f**boy
Always sit at home playin with your f**toys
Turn down, I ain't tryin' to hear that f** noise
Cause I really don't give a f**, f**boy