you know i just don't get it
this year i'm selling records
now everybody wants to come around like i owe em something
the fuck you want from me
i don't know why all the fuss about me
nobody ever gave a fuck before
all they did was doubt me
now everybody wanna run their mouth
and try to take shots at me
you might see me walking a dead rottweiler dog
with its head chopped off in the park with a spiked collar
hollering at him 'cause the son of a bitch won't quit barking
driving up the block in the car that they shot 'pac in
looking for big's killers
blue and red like i don't see what the big deal is
double barrel twelve gauge bigger than chris wallace
'cause biggie and 'pac just missed all this
watching all these cheap imitations get rich off 'em
and get dollars that shoulda been theirs like they switched wallets
and amidst all this crist' popping and wrist watches
i just sit back and just watch and just get nauseous
and walk around with an empty bottle of remy martin
starting shit like some 26-year-old skinny cartman
i'm anti-backstreet and ricky martin
whose instinct's to kill n'sync
these fuckin' brats can't sing and britney's garbage
what's this bitch retarded? gimme back my sixteen dollars
all i see is sissies in magazines smiling
whatever happened to wiling out and being violent?
whatever happened to catching a good old-fashioned
passionate ass-whooping and getting your shoes coat and your hat tooken?
boy/girl groups make me sick
and i can't wait 'til i catch all you faggots in public
i'ma love it. vanilla ice don't like me
said some shit in vibe to spite me
then went and dyed his hair just like me
a bunch of little kids wanna swear just like me