[Intro: Your Old Droog]
Uh, uh-huh, yeah
Check it out, one, two, yeah, yo

[Verse 1: Your Old Droog]
Only way I'd get on a song with you is if you were dyin' and it was Make-A-Wish
Catch 'em in hell frying, I wouldn't take a piss
You faker than the laugh from a news anchor is
I don't care what you think of us, Droog is cantankerous
This job is thankless, really might have to shank a bitch
They change the words to your songs like Al Yankovich
Try and augment the tone, rearrange the pitch
And blow before you even get known, shit's dangerous
The real thing languishes, the way it is, shit be hurtin'
When nobody insertin' your disc, it's disconcertin' (goddamn)
Can't let it derail ya
Nowadays you gotta be successful just to be considered a failure (gems)
Slingin' rap paraphernalia, might've sold you grams
Blowing up like I know you's can't
Ain't nobody gotta hold Droog hand
Bitch we live, bred 365 like that Whole Foods brand (what?)
My confidence never hinged upon opinions of another man
More backhand compliments than tennis fans (where's the love?)
Can't be on the stage, same time in the stands
Feedback don't do shit to enhance your business plans
Give a fuck about a fan
Don't make me back the Uz' back blow your ass back to Uzbekistan
Backhand smack a stan to Kazakhstan
They ain't seein' me, it's Y.O.D., the classic man