Who Are They

Huh

You see a nigga with his game tight, money with a name like

'Face (Face Mob), havin his way, the homie did his thing, right?

You just a peon, the type of bitch I'd pee on

High sidin a nigga, rollin in a Neon, now what the fuck was she on?

I'm "Prime Time" bitch like Deion (yeah)

I Spinks on a ho like Leon

And you are just a castaway, so get your ass away

Instead of fuckin you, I'd masturbate

I shouldn't of had to wait, I think you blew your big chance

You rejected when I asked about the eighth grade dance

Now I'm big time, like my homeboy Randy

Plus I'm pushin a Porsche with drop top panties

It's just like candy but I ain't hammy

Yo ho, so yo, ass can't hand me

Shit, fuck your cell phone bitch, you can keep that

Broke, you ain't know a motherfucker, where was she at?

I think I remember you, from way back when, but how can I be sure?

That's so long ago and since then we both have grown

But look at you, you're amazin

What's so, crazy, I know how niggaz do

'Cause they get money, change and don't remember who they are

Listen, in high school with the females, I was rarely selected

I got rejected by the ones the damn nerds rejected

If I wore a shirt Monday, this is true, I ain't lyin

By the end of the week you probably saw it two more times

I was discouraged by the microscopic size of my bank

But stayed constantly motivated to rise in the ranks

I used to be a bottom feeder, lowest man on the totem

But I showed a mass like the transit sit on my scrotum

Gettin fed by my music and it's all clean work

And the used to be prom queen is a Walgreens clerk

I would dream about bein with ya, wantin to kiss on ya

Now I let my damn bladder bust before I piss on ya

Me and 'face second to none, makin records for fun

You thirty-seven at the strip club gettin naked for ones

But I ain't trippin, you can hit the room with me, it's fine

And when I bust one on her chin, I'm like "clean up on aisle nine!"

(yeah)