[Verse One: Mcenroe]
f** the weak sh** talkers who be saying my name
Cause that ain't the way to try to get a little fame
And I'm far from famous but at least I'm not nameless
So the [?] talk sh** cause the music is heinous
f** the local promoters who screw me while touring
Put their boys on late, I play at 2:00 in the morning
And their crews so wack they drive heads to the exit
Then front on my face like they k**ed it on some next sh**
The only thing that you k**ed is the vibe in the room
I'm at the merch table chilling, people trying to consume
When I'm on the mic, smoother than Chick Herns
So f** you, stop rapping it's my turn
And f** the critics who say I can't rap in the first place
That's absurd, in the worst way
I never claimed to have the cadence of Biggie still
I keep my flows tight and my lyrics are really ill
f** the weirdo's who stalk me and Pip
I'm glad to have fans but that sh**'s ridiculous
Stop sending e-mails with lyrics typed out
You won't get signed, I throw the sh** right out
f** all the stores that owe me and dog it
Won't pay the bills then play me for product
This isn't charity, Bread Bread's gotta eat
Plus I gotta press vinyl and the prices are steep
f** dudes at the merch table having the nerve
To not buy nothing cause they have it all burned
I know times are tough on you, I wouldn't doubt it
But the least you could do is not tell me about it
f** George Bush Jr for this bullsh** war
f** the Senate and the Congress and the Supreme Court
They talk about freedom in the U.S.A
But in the name of freedom people murdered every day
f** the big corporations who be screwing us over
Sell us out in reality, k**ing us slower
f** every bad boss, too many to mention
f** the Wall Street Wizard who be spending my pension
f** a carbohydrate, man I'm all about protein
Now that I'm married, f** you to the bar scene
f** anyone who ever kept me up snoring
f** Tim Duncan just for being so boring
f**
[Verse Two: Birdapres]
f** you very much for ignoring my past work
Supporting every rapper who went out a** first
f** I look like, looking for greener pastures
I roll with hired goons and meaner ba*tards
f** rap in general, you in particular
Always on stage and I'm way past sick of ya
f** c**aine, f** E and f** meth
If you wanna get high, I could give a f** less
f** everybody who's too good for rap
You don't rap too, f** you, you're wack
f** these girls for keeping me distant
And f** these clubs where my money is misspent
f** this DJ, I just came to drink
MC's these days are a waste of ink
But f** 'em anyway, every last one
For leaving the game under inspired and overrun
f** the game, I came to make music
f** school up, but nah I ain't stupid
Need to drop an album so f** the excuses
If they don't stay fresh than f** these producers
I need drums that girls can strut to
You shouldn't care what the f** I've been up to
f** you for laughing, never had the guts to
If you don't like how I'm living than motherf** you
[Scratching]
"Eff you"