[Intro: Ab-Soul]
Look at me, King!
Look at me, King!
Soul
Kaylin on the couch sleepin'
She wake up, she gonna be like damnnnn

[Verse 1: Ab-Soul]
Come and spar with a titan
If you ain't knew it's true I'm Zeus and I marvel at lightning
What a marvelous sight, know the thought is enticin'
Flow stupid like 50 Tyson, don't trip with 50 Cent
I beat 'em all like Tyson, that's no coincidence
Ab-Soul, don't forget the hyphen, I might throw a fit
You think I lived in the Salvation Army but all it is
Is that we got a new 2Pacalypse Now
(When?) Before the apocalypse
Wow, how do you come up with this?
If you behind Ab, then maybe you can stomach this
Who could fuck with it?
I know you got a dick, but use your head, bruh
They sleepin' on me by a colony of bed bugs
Cut from a different cloth and no one knows my thread count
My mind is like a sword, you'd swore I'd have a hair cut
Soul and Budden, no discussion
Joe, you know it's nothin'
Wrote the score, and then I scored, metaphor, and 1
[Chorus: Ab-Soul]
I don't know about you, hey, I don't know about them
I just do what I do, they just do what they can
They be hatin' on the man, with a knife in their hand
Cut from a different cloth, cut from a different cloth
All these n***as on my dick, all these bitches on my balls
Cut from a different cloth, cut from a different cloth
Middle fingers to the fakers, middle fingers to 'em all

[Verse 2: Joe Budden]
Y'all can hold the applause
I just did what these other n***as was scared to do
Tell me life is hard, I'll ask: "What the fuck do you compare it to?"
Quarter on the loose, I'm blessed enough that I can spare a few
Told me I'd be dead, the fact I'm breathin' is a miracle
Y'all got Gollum, listenin' to all these dudes that y'all call lyrical
Excludin' under conclusion that you young and you dumb
If that's how they appear to you
I'd be lyin' if I said your words ain't bother me
Be lyin' if I ain't think it was trickery or reverse psychology
I came in on Rakim, watched y'all take the bar, y'all lowered it
Won't stay in line like a battered wife
Ain't too many spots y'all can go with it
How long y'all gonna febreeze manure
And think the fans won't notice it?
Nah, I ain't get angrier, but the chip on my shoulder did
Not to gloat, if I ain't one of the G.O.A.T.S.
Y'all probably missed my track record
Either that or y'all just ain't been keepin' track of records
I've just been waitin' till that sentiment passed
Y'all ain't even gotta be drunk to feel this genuine draft
I'm lettin' Benjamins stack
Shouldn't be hard to tell if the boy is potent
I'm the only time you'll see a madman be void of emotion
'Cause they fear me in any cypher the hear me in
Only rappin' with Soul for the outer body experience
So hats off, y'all fit for this, but y'all the type we laugh at
I'm way ahead, and when I aim for yours
Somethin' tells me he won't snap back
All I ever been was a outcast
This time in the moment I moved past that
But the burner name is Jackson and your alias is Baghdad
BLAT! It's not a game, try to execute
2K'D my old bitch, know I keep a ex to shoot
If anyone tried to do the math they'd probably be mad as fuck
Said I'd never amount to shit, now they tryin' to add it up
[Chorus: Ab-Soul]
I don't know about you, hey, I don't know about them
I just do what I do, they just do what they can
They be hatin' on the man, with a knife in their hand
Cut from a different cloth, cut from a different cloth
All these n***as on my dick, all these bitches on my balls
Cut from a different cloth, cut from a different cloth
Middle fingers to the fakers, middle fingers to 'em all