[Intro] Put a piece of prosciutto in front of the mic to stop the pops Put a Pop Tart in front of it [Verse] Five bars for a stanza I'm looking down on you from these trees like a gorgeous panda While you looking like a f**ing George Costanza I hold the answer, other rappers like colon cancer I do a show, you throw your hands up And I'll fold the money and roll the rubber bands up Full clam banquet I'm in the fine dining establishment Wine and the best freshly caught-by-hand slabs of salmon with the perfect parents The side dishes are a must When there's five digits and plus tucked in an envelope that's sitting on my nuts What? (What?) All the ingredients of fine dishes Sit back and you'll find my mind functions as exquisite as wine reduction on Atlantic fishes (Salmon!) If you don't like me, don't let it get to be an affliction Fact is, your sister loves me, your mom listens and grandma's writing me fan-fiction I'm auspicious while you wash dishes Girls blow me soft kisses while they're dreaming of something that's more explicit And all critics s** a long pennis I'm standing different, while you sound like you need to sit down with someone who will hold that little hand and listen You're sore and hurt, try to drag me through the floor and dirt Just say my name, I'll hang a chain on my Dior shirt Put in some more work That's what I do