[Intro: Mike Be]

Yeah, Mike Be

I'm in the studio right now with Spose

My whole body draped in denim (Jaw Gems) even my socks

We smoking joints (P Dank)

Drinking champagne (P Dank) with raw shark in it

'bout to put you in a port-a-potty and tip it over (splash)

[Verse: Spose]

Allow me to be curt like Nirvana

The way you cats rock is soft like koala

Livin' undriven with stoplight persona

I plot 'til I pop like Madonna, you lost sight

I'm frostbite with talkin', you bite like piranha

I rock mics right 'til I'm posh, spiced with commas

Walk on stage, rip quick like pantyhose

From a small scene, but my dreams all grandiose

I came with the flamethrower, you bros the same hoes

Just as lame as The Chainsmokers, this the Maine opus

I remain focused

Bunch of tough types, bluff like playing poker

I put Nikes on Ivy like Frank Ocean, I came broken

But now I'm fixed like WrestleMania

I've been Maine, but my pen game Pennsylvania

Spit academia, nuts, macadamia

Rap facts since Iraq was Mesopotamia

Bunch of amateurs, I rep Acadia

First things firstly

Never owned a Lamborghini, never showed mercy

Dudes need attention, bros look thirsty

Take a bow, bro, do a curtsy, back to the nursery

Your past is shady, your future look murky

My pockets so fat, they might do a couple burpees

I open rappers up, break apart like Hershey's

Just a local man with passion who they can't imagine

Pants are saggin', rancid fashion, make 'em cancel pad and pencil

Ansel Adams portrait, Appalachian

Preachin' adoration, more congratulations

Sword to pad and paper, sworn to back the neighbors

Sort of had to stop promoting just to 'preciate the moment (ah)

And then it's back to work and rapping verses

Taking rappers' purses, breaking magic [?]

Push a product they can have to purchase, ain't no average person

Made my own inertia for the clones to worship

Life's a circus, I'm the ringleader

Firebreather, Ryan Peters, lion tamer

Ah nah, guess again

Sweat holy water on the mic, so it's blessed again

Go forth, you hold hoarse, like equestrian

I'm all ten, top ten plays on ESPN

Click here to find out more

From a regular guy with same kind style shorts

To enormous cyborg [?] five more horns

On the mic, gets high, go and find Al Gore

Sweatband Björn Borg at the fort like pasta

Flow cold, St. Lawrence, Madawaska

Got me like the North Star, to my North Pole

Out of metal bars in my repertoire, chunky portfold

Oral oracle, minor miracle

Motivations not material (okay, here we go!)

My worn, plain flannel, my wardrobe; camo

My written make the competition shake like tambo

My fans know, rhyme Rambo, damn, bro