[Verse 1: Cal Scruby]
It's interesting
Do you remember why you're here?

They told me it's ERS
And I can't rap about anything but
Weed, Cars, Sex
And if I talk about love
They goin' to show love less
And if I talk about money
Then they say I'm up next
So I'm down for the cause, for the blogs, and the media
Fake style, fake rhymes, those are the ingredients
Who could be the greediest?
(What rhymes with greediest?)
Superficial life style, civil disobedience
And I don't even say shit
Try to find a content its buried under the beat and layin' in a coffin
Carry over the beef and stir it in a pot
With a little confidence and call that a concoction
And give it to the fans
I can feed em' outa' hand
They don't care about the words
Cause they only wana' dance
But they memorize em' anyway
Recite em' in a trance
Makin' dollars off the music
Without even makin' sense
I don't really understand
I'm just waist deep in the game
Knuckle deep in the money
And balls deep in the fame
But to keep it one-hundred
I got this shit in the bank
And I'm just gettin' paid
I don't give a shit what I say
It takes thirty-four minutes just to write and record
Fifteen for the verse and nineteen for the chorus
I mislead with the words, you think I can afford
A Benz when I'm in a 94 Honda Accord
Of course my debut tape was hotter than my new tape
Cause I don't really give a shit
It only took a few days
Its cold shit, new age
Epitome a two face
Like officer I'm innocent
I just made the kool-aid
So you can charge me with a tooth ache
I sugar coated everything
It's looking like a Soufflé
I say I'm original and everything subliminal
But really I just look a little different
Like it's DVD to Blu-Ray
But I got delivery
I just need a due date
My rhymes over head like newly wed bouquets
I should probably double knot my shoelace
I'm trippin' like a mothafucka' livin' out a suitcase
Wait, I'm feelin' better now
Over the weather now
And under the radar
And I don't need no A&R
I don't need no day job
I just keep on killin em'
Feelin' better than good
A right click synonym
A you won't see Eminiem
Yela, Mac, Asher
Easy, Riff, Kels
Stop namin' white rappers
Race just ain't a factor you backwards bastards
And If I really wanted I could make em' all Caspers