Buck 65
I Trusted You
Here is a really brilliant new talent, a singer of such rare distinction, that we simply had to share him with you, it's an honor to welcome to the stage, the gifted...
“Mr Sage... Mr Sage... Shoot, I'm looking for a man named Sage”

[Verse 1]
You know, it's been like 20 years I've been doing this, sh*t. Came up with a lot of people, a few of which fell the f**k off. So I'mma dedicate this to y'all

Pieces of sh*t who disappear when the campaign fades
Got a nice little record but you can't play on stage
I anti-promote you so I can't say your names
You're crying about money with your brand name shades
You tint out the window to your bland brain waves
You couldn't see us move past the champagne phase
I done changed the game while your fans stayed the same
And say, "Shoot. I'm looking for a man named Sage."

I trusted you (x 16)

[Verse 2]
Listen, don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things
And don't forget to hit the deck when ma' machete swings
It's a rage that engages when the celly rings
You don't gotta interrupt my life just to tell me things
I don't get along with self-help book worms
Had a ring of 'em around me and they all took turns
With looks of concern while taking what they could get
Some parasitic, bloated tick, opportunistic bullsh*t
My little one-trick pony
You had a good run while I was patting your a** but after that
All anyone could say is how you're so down to earth
So is dog sh*t. Both are getting left in the dirt
I trusted you (x 8)

No, it ain't about the lie, it's how you tell me it
I'll slap this hatchet in your back before we bury it
Then spit out your cherry pit
Your petty sh*t goes t**s up. I'm like, "Man, whateva."
You're all like, "What is your damage, Honey?"
F**k me gently with a chainsaw. Just make sure
You lube up with salt solution, stupid, I'm a take it raw
There's canker sores on the lip service you give me
Your facial flaws are gettin' all nervous and shifty
Sissy. That's an easy tell
Consider the elbow grease that I put in when you get jealous of what you see me sell
How'd you fit those big dollar signs in your little beady eyes
Without the use of photoshop or CGI?

I've got a special effect, it's called hard work
I write my own checks, that's just one of my job's perks
You got burnt but you keep playing with matchsticks
Keep falling off like weak refrigerator magnets
Lock and load. C*ck and aim
I've got a razor tongue but it's like a taser gun when I make shocking claims
And I don't just talk some game
Cause I'm a commentator and a player and a coach who can fan the flame
F**k a stand off, I'll chop your hand off
And I'll shove it down your throat until you choke and you can't cough
Dis me in your city if you need to, but when I come through...
"Am I glad to see you Sage!"
"Wow Mr. Sage. You made me wish I could have been there too!"

[Outro: Andy Kaufman]
“I trusted you, I trusted you, I trusted you...” (loop with crazy screams)