[Verse 1]

I must’ve came out the womb with a blunt in my mouth

'Cause I've always been geeked

And ever since I can remember, these motherfuckers been picking on me, telling me I look like a freak

Every time I would go to spit something

I‘d hear "Who the fuck passed the mic to McLovin?"

Quit buggin’ - you mad? Then bitch, suck it

‘Cause now that I get all this love, you get nothing

Long before touring had all my flaws praised

I got shoved in hallways and called names

But now soon as my song plays, they all wave 

Like “awe, thanks, bitch how do my balls taste?”

Now I got your main chick, legs open

No way, y’all get no play, Greg Oden

High-key, if they try me - Dej Loaf 'em 

I could make a fuck boy swim good, Frank Ocean

Nah, but I ain’t a gangsta, though

Just a smooth motherfucker with amazing flow

So to each pussy in my city who didn’t believe in me, man, I hope you get my thank you note

Now they feel me in Brooklyn and Michigan

‘Cause I stay with the lines and the hooks like a fisherman

So if you think you can cook me, then get your pen 

Bet you I won’t even reply 

Looking back, man, my first demo sucked like dirt devils

But now all I do is win, I earn medals

I’m top floor, your ass is first level

And the cash? I keep a stash like Burt Reynolds

You're looking like a number one with the Mac Sauce

These rappers got me hungry like bath salts, they rap soft 

Yeah son, there’s no one better, I’m that raw

And if there is, they must still be stuck in their dads balls

[Hook]

‘Cause all I know

Is y’all do not phase me, aye

And all I know, aye

Is Imma get mine

[Verse 2]

Now that I got fans, I got a salary

But how they want me to rap, don’t always challenge me

So I try to compromise, this is a balance beam

That’s why every track I make sound like it’s Halloween 

Now these kids all think I’m a hot trend

I’m right next to Hopsin up in their top 10

But I’m not him, just ‘cause I might spaz

When I write raps I’m type cast and boxed in

I took a detour in a genre of Hip Hop

But I don’t think I’m down with this pit stop

‘Cause I don’t like blood and no, G I ain’t a Juggalo 

The fans will hate because they can’t relate, 

But I still love 'em though

But If you ain’t about selling out for the air waves

You’ve gotta go to extremes for some spare change 

And that ain’t a fair wage, but I ain’t Claire Danes

So just to get their attention I’ve gotta wear fangs

Then of course they go crazy for that jazz

Vampire, white guy, raps fast 

The irony is that that shit was a gimmick, and really everything I did in that video was just half-assed

Nah, I’m just playing, who got the last laugh?

I still love that song through all the backlash

But I can't stick with the image just for the fast cash 

That'd be a problem for me and I ain’t in math class 

Truthfully, Horrorcore can be the fakest scene 

All this shit’s made up - it’s fucking Maybelline

But wait, the rest of these rappers are the fake ones…right?

Yet we’re still playing with make believe 

Oh, now y’all wanna act vulgar

And say “fuck you” to a genre that stacked boulders

But a lot of y’all are rap vultures 

Don't play dumb, you know where this came from - it’s black culture

But y’all don’t have respect for the art form

Unless it’s by “blessed by the Dark Lord”

And it sounds like cardboard, with harsh gore

And large swords, maybe gargoyles, as long as it’s hardcore

And that’s the truth, so go sit and spin

I'll flex 'til my arms soar before I spit a fib

And Imma keep growing, my real fans will love me for who I am 

Not just some shit I did

[Hook]

‘Cause all I know

Is y’all do not phase me, aye

And all I know, aye

Is Imma get mine

[Verse 3]

Yeah I’m the nicest

The only rapper that’s hated more than Vanilla Ice is

Fuck a license

I got so much drive, the stick shift is attached to my right wrist

And so far, growing up in the O-R

It ain’t a challenge to find rappers that go hard

But they all shoot for the moon, and still ain’t no star

And I’m the closest thing so far

But I spot haters in the crowd like a sonar jet 

Talking shit even when I ain't spit no bars yet 

But they flow below par, and all my flows are wet

Bitch who got the juice now? Call me Omar Epps 

And I ain’t Pac, but kid, it’s so trippy

Like damn, how'd I get so big with no Diddy?

How'd I get fans out in New Zealand, but can't get love in my own city?

Pity - they say I’m corny and they call me a quitter

Probably ‘cause half these rappers girls follow me on my twitter

Or maybe ‘cause these rappers wanna be balling up on a shopping spree

But instead they’re at the dollar tree and they’re bitter

You can say he acts sweet, but don’t diss him yet

One day, you might get your ass beat by the click he rep

Yeah, I'm like a gas leak, I'm nasty, but my shit is still too catchy 

It won't get respect

Should’ve made it classy, with jazz chords

Sang less, tried to act deep, and rapped more

But that was so last week, let's fast forward

And give my fans all the trap beats they asked for

So whether you a rap geek, or just popping pills

Bruh, let the facts speak and acknowledge skills

They say I'm just not clever

But you’d hate Nickelback even if they wrote the best song ever 

I guess it’s all about image if you're the new school

That’s why instead of listening, they just click it on YouTube

So if you rap conscious or you hollerin "soo woo"

Everybody’s corny to somebody, so do you

And I don’t give a shit who’s around, hoe

I’ll bump Taylor Swift if it sounds dope

It don’t matter if it’s Seal or it's Cee-Lo

Bitch, I put ears over ego

I guess I’m too different, but I don’t care who diss

‘Cause my roof’s missing, so homie that’s useless

And the truth is, man, I don’t give two shits 

And that’s what my definition of cool is

[Hook]

‘Cause all I know

Is y’all do not phase me, aye

And all I know, aye

Is Imma get mine