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[Hook:] I can see through your bullshit Running in the air, and I don't really care (cause) All I need... Is real people, and real music and real people And no I don't want new friends Cause I don't wanna feel like I have to pretend (It's all I need) Is real people, and real music and real people Sorry this ain't back pack, Sorry this ain't frat rap This might seem abstract All I got are sick lines it's Anthrax on amtrak We about win I said Where the fuck those hands at? Your girl and friends? I don't know what do with em No one taken our lane See we Drivin drunk taken up two of em I didn't move to Brooklyn to be a hipster I moved to Brooklyn to see the big the picture It's only when you leave, that's when they wanna miss ya But when your there for 'em, all they wanna do is diss ya And never call you again, if you don't deliver So let's sip the elixir SongtexteCall the waitress over and tip her Don't hit me on twitter When you see me getting bigger I don't any friends, All I want are those figures See the thing is, they all just imitating But down the road their Fuckin themselves, It's masturbation They ain't real, they ain't real - see It's only entertainment They ain't in the streets If they're backs laying on the pavement Talkin shit, it ain't me - But I do it on occasion Cockin back and I'm aiming At all y'all who's lamin Claimin fame goin down the drain Man, You ain't shit You a dame, only a stain see I'm the shit They say Geoffrey, Cuey OnCue You smooth as a silk Meanwhile drinkin black coffee Cause I can't afford no milk They shootin, don't sweat it Your a pimp But the only thing In my pockets Is empty wrappers and some lint Nah... she couldn't do it Neither could she Neither could this jager Neither could this weed Every weekend I'd rage Wake up monday morning Face minimum wage Shit I need to get paid Last night I got laid But what did it do for me? Except, I don't gotta go to youporn this morning I'm torn in between tourin And dormin... sourin... to the top My dad always said shit or get off pot! This whole time I wasn't bitin' I was writin for the enlightened So when you smell my shit, is when I'm a start wipin Can you tell these other rappers I'm a fuck the game backwards Go head pigeon hole me Homie you don't even know me You ain't competition you a cronie Of a bum, mama look what I've become They googlin me like addicts, look at your son! So stop with the comparisons Don't know Look Sarah Palin an I realized these rappers suck they own dick Manson, Marilyn Your girls doing my work at the Sheridan Nah I ain't trying to be arrogant I got soul in me, it's been apparent since They wanna buy me out like Merrill Lynch Nah I ain't forfitting a some flowers and a coffin in a hurst Would be more fitting than that white collar ball licking Wake up and look at the life we're all living You can't trust no one Any more than you could throw em Watch me Crash down then I'm a move up on the totem Nah I don't know 'em you sure you told'em Yeah homie I told'em Aus Songtexte Mania