Static
People Like Myself
[Chorus: x 2]People like myself, only hang with self cause that's the way to goI can't go outside without findin some new kinfolksPeople on my left, people on my right, all in my earholeMake be like whoa and find me somewhere else to go[Magoo]It's Mag from your TV screen, buzzin off the Jim BeamBut the Mag why'all think why'all know ain't what I seemI'm a low-down freak from Seapeak(?)See them high school mates, I see 'em and don't speakAll why'all want to talk like we used to hang'Cause I'm doin my thang, now you want to bask in my fameThat's why I stay out the club, be in the cribSmokin a dub, countin my cash, over the phoneAnd I'm sellin cell phones, all with chipsMy nine to bloods, my glock to crips, who want war?You and your boys can bring the noiseBut I'm a bring hand grenades, now you're laid!Pull out my dick, piss on your bitch-assSit on your face, now you gotta kiss assWho fiend for fame life belong to your fansAnd haters and thugs that want to end your lifespanSongtexte[Chorus][Timbaland]Uhh, uhh, uhh - since I got bigger (bigger)I'm over here and why'all recite Tim's my nigga (nigga)Like I just figure (figure)And my tracks didn't help niggazSo for rememdy I pound niggazLike I keep 'em in DJ's for that new JiggaLike them forty-two GirbaudsI pocket every demo, like Timbaland - he's that next niggaConfirmed by people that she can blowConvinced Booker T she's the next to goNow I'm checkin every joint and every unit I soldOnce I'm deep in the dough, I'm deep with a crewIn the 80's why'all screamed like the movie is throughWhy'all screamin this is "Nutty Professor: Part II"To "Eyes Wide Shut" to whoever I chooseI can appreciate a Kidman to a, Tom CruiseTo a, fast food, I'm strictly drive-throughThe money I gave dudes I basically raised fools[Chorus][Magoo]Even the phone spit it, God know what I'm thinkinI'm drinkin and smokin and stressin, go to church for confessionDown on my knees, beggin to God, show me the pathMy label is jerkin me workin me so the devil can lurk in meSick of niggaz bitchin, wishin I'd failTell 'em Mag be the rap effin Kenan and KelI'm spittin the version of verses curses over the churchesRappin mo' iller than thriller Manila and give you salmonella[Timbaland]Stop, the press!Bitch, you can't afford that dress, you can't afford that hairdoI don't want your sex, here take your fast food"Tim you're dead wrong, Tim you're dead rude!"Hey girl, I don't even know you"Timbaland we're your first cousin Marion Sue"My momma never ever mentioned youMy momma also told me to watch them savage boos, what?[Chorus: x 2]
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