[Intro]

Who you think I am?

[Verse 1]

Why don't you tell me who you're supposed to be

'Cause you're a pair of fake tits on a ghost to me

You aren't even half-real but most of you freaks

Seem to be holding a belief that you were chosen to be

The Messiah, huh, a bunch of mice and liars

I'll confront you silly guys, set your wives on fire

You're not who you think you are

You're not rebels and fighters

But you're still exposing me

To your irrelevant IQ's

Fake fucks, see American Idol, I would

Much rather leave and ride to hell on a bike, fool

Those people should be charged like felons and iced, too

I'm not harsh, maybe the devil's a nice dude

My rhymes, they're not medicine, mind you

They can heal your soul, but they can tear it apart, too

I'm a motherfucking liar, but I hate being lied to

I'm a hypocrite, shit, I'm a hellish disciple

I'm not an idol, I'm merely a guy who

Keeps track of his own thoughts

Man, I'm letting my mind move

If I don't succeed, brother, fuck your needs

Fuck the world, fuck the kids, fuck the girls

I'm getting mad now, something struck my nerves

Looks like I gotta calm down, puff some herb

Listen, head, you're out of luck, you heard?

Heart turned to the brain said: „Fuck you neeeeeeerd" (Yeeah)

'Cause it's not your turn, so act

Like a damned soul, brother, drop and burn

Some things just never change

Like they're rocking a perm

And this is just one of the lessons

You've forgotten to learn

I got some news:

If you follow the herd

Usually the case is

You abolish your views, you see

If what I'm saying is appalling to you, it's okay

Just have some decency, don't call me a fool, you freak

Hate spewed with a horrible tone

But I will never listen to it, I'm immortal in stone

Because I am still growing strong, like my horrible poems

So bring the fire, baby boy, I gotta roast the opponents (Yeah)

You keep knocking on the wrong address

Like the Jehovah boy saying that his God's the best

Mick, jaggering me, Can't you hear me knocking?

I don't give a fuck and the whole village is talking

I'm mine, not your somebody

3 o'clock, get your books, go home and study

Be a man, get a job, bring home the money

I don't want your lifestyle, 'cause you folks are lonely

And mostly phony and most of you don't even know me

So go teach somebody else about this false baloney

You're forcing on me

I'mma pause your boring monologues

'Cause, oh my god, I am grossly stunning

Fake tits on ghosts, yet awfully boring

Take a lookie here, I even look awesomely yawning

You call yourself the boss quite a lot

But i would like you stop

You're like Michael Scott

But not even funny