Busdriver
Can’t You Tell I’m A Sociopath?
[Intro]
You could tell it's me
You could tell it's me
You could tell it's me

[Verse 1: Busdriver]
I'm dressed like a punk singer killing - with a humdinger
But to tell who I am, you don't need no sketch artist
Cause I rap the hardest on a cassette cartridge
I am Driver, you know me? Act right and yell out to me
And yell out to me, and yell out to me
And yell out to me, and yell out to me
Cause I was the cutest kid who blew the wigs at music gigs
Yes I am the future nig, you know how Driver does

[Hook]
Wake up, I know you see me when I'm blowing dope
In school zones, I'm too grown, can't you tell?
Wake up, I know you see me when I'm on the road
I'm in the vogue turnt, can't you tell?
Can't you tell?
Can't you tell?
Is it cause of how we did this here way before we could earn a wage?
Is it cause of how I fit my hood in a turn of phrase?
Is it cause my n***as know this world's a perfect cage?
I don't know, do you get it? Can't you tell?
[Verse 2: VerBS]
See I'm fly, at least I try not to try dressing weird, DIY
DIT, BYO, A-B-C-D-fill in the blanks
Subculture anthro-poly-amour-indie glamour
Simply wholesome chicks want me to hold 'em, stroke 'em
Over here, I'm over hill, been slicing awesome, what can I say?
This shit that I'm involved in, I used to revolve around it often
Now we the small talk of the big town, that's small talk with tall box
When they sit down, do you get it now? Make it legit now

[Hook]
Wake up, I know you see me when I'm blowing dope
In school zones, I'm too grown, can't you tell?
Wake up, I know you see me when I'm on the road
I'm in the vogue turnt, can't you tell?
I mean I know I always say some dumb stuff like this (Can't you tell?)
Only I would leave the house dressed like this, man (Can't you tell?)
You could tell it's me (Uh)
You could tell it's me (Word, uh)
You could tell it's me (Word, uh)
You could tell it's me (Word, let's get 'em)
You could tell it's me (Word)
You could tell it's me (Word)
Can't you tell?

[Verse 3: Busdriver]
I rep that L.A. n***a without the mineral peel
Hopping off those minstrel's heels, my dap hand stays upturned
I stuff urns with buzz terms cause I'm crazed
Cause I'm crazed, cause I'm crazed
I show off signs of dementia, just throw my mind in the blender
Me and my n***as was often used as target practice
Without no troop aid in spacesuit-grade starter jackets
But we did our shit anyway, we did our - the way we wanted, yeah
Wake up
I'm from Hellfyre Club my dude
Can't you tell, wake up
I'm from Los Angeles, homie
Can't you tell?
Can't you tell? (I know you can)
Can't you tell? (You could tell it's me)
Can't you tell? (You could tell it's me)
Can't you tell?
Perfect Hair, VerBS, Driver, Hellfyre Club