Chorus:
Hey Ratatat, bass like a demon, no brake lights, no need dem, me drums
Go Ratatat, liquor elixir, This gasoline make sure me lungs
Go Ratatat, ayiyiyah, Ratatat
Ayiyiyah Ratatat
Ayiyiyah, Ratatat

Verse:
See I’m so high but I don’t smoke weed
Don’t do lines but I wrote this speech
I tell em I rule the world, they just don’t know it
You suck at life, so I guess you gonn blow it
Not me tho, No middle America, rise to the top like I’m mixed wit some leavener
Got it like Nas, it was written, novella shit, how can I plot if I live wit no character?
Highway, I’m cruising from CT to NY, FDR to Houston or Howston, confusing
Long as I pronounce the shit out of my music, I get my exposure, my mentale is nudist
And oooh, come and sample this exotic, darlin, ooh
Ya know there’s something different ‘bout him darlin, oohh
Nobody gave two shits about him
Watch as he’s slowly surrounded by all of these labels like I’m up in Staples
Guess who gonn be shopping, now, uh oh, hey

Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh-oh, hey
Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh-oh, hey
Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh-oh, hey
Marz Ferrer:
Your Eyes shut wide
With your twisted views of what's right
Your Ears tuned in
Yet when I speak I'm muted
The kings and queens will know my name
And Countless stars will shine for me
And I will rise above your reign
I'm crushing shores like a tidal wave
So, baby, better give me some room
Before your pedestal you’re on becomes my footstool

(Chorus)
Voli Verse Three:
Hello hello hello hello this that arena, that hundred thousand seater
Tell the crowd, “put up your fingers, come get swallowed by the speakers”
From my city to your city, I go Andre
You fuckers takin shots like paparazzi, I go Kanye
And baby, oooh, this feelin I’m feelin you’re feelin, these white girls are blackin out
Black girls are moshin out
New Martin Luther, I bring ‘em together, they get off on Voli, Nouveau KamaSutra
And shout to Rick Rubin, he down with the music, no cosign is needed but, shit, I could use it
My wallet is useless, car barely moving
Camry is slow, in my mind, it’s a supra
My killa cam, killa cam
Brokey broke, ridin that killa cam, killa cam
Ratatat tat, revenge of the nerd, how you mad about that?
Now the prom queen want it, get her outta dat dress
Wit her cheerleader body, got her pom-poms sweaty, this nerd throw deeper than a quarterback jock, uh uh uh uh oh
Hey, baby you next huh
Lemme taste your sweat huh
On that east indie, huh
Wanna see you geek wit me
Uh uh uh oh
Ratatat
Ayiyiyah Ratatat
Ayiyiyah, Ratatat
Ayiyiyah Ratatat