[Intro: Chocolate Droppa (Kevin Hart)]
Cypher start, but they can’t start without a sound
Drama give me that sound, J.B, let’s go

[Verse 1: J.B. Smoove]
Yo, son, you wanna see me?
Grab a smartphone and IMDB me
I was real long before the show, haha
My wife, Shah, she'll let you know
Don't question me, you better act like ya heard
Had enthusiasm [?] long before Curb
Cartoon voices, I bring to life
Robot Chicken, Black Dynamite
A show called The League and another called Bent
That's not my resume, it's only a dent
So I'm about to get paid in season three
Or no J.B. on BET, oh
[?] and I won't quit
J.B. is the motherfuckin' shit, you know how I roll
I step on stages, I'm amazin'
The people be like, "[?] move your ass so crazy"
Don't hold me back, I'm about to get ill
J.B. Smoove [?] motherfuckin' real [?]

[Interlude: Chocolate Droppa (Kevin Hart)]
Calm down, J
Calm down
[Verse 2: Duane Martin]
Last year, breakaway suit
New gear, breakaway boots
Car that I drive got a breakaway roof
When I get old I got the breakaway tooth
Got the breakaway show, breakaway spoof
I'm from Brooklyn, so you know I'm 'bout the truth
Yo, we so hot
Other networks not
Started from the bottom, now we at the top
Real Husbands got the number one spot
We so conceited
'Cause the other shows conceded

[Interlude: Chocolate Droppa (Kevin Hart)]
Breakaway suits, the cypher continues

[Verse 3: Boris Kodjoe]
Sowas habt ihr noch nie gesehen
Das Jahr des Ochsen in China, 1973
Mutter Deutsch und der Vater aus Ghana, das ist Afrika
Und ich geh nach Amerika
Ein Traum, kaum zu glauben bis ich da war
No regrets it's a blessin'
To share messagin' in my native language, and
All of these fools don't know what I'm sayin', though
Checkin' the subtitles while watchin' their own show
Who's the tallest? The ballest? The one with the flawless
The finest, the halfest, the wideness [?]
The German chocolatest, the ab checkers
The one who nevertheless can teach you all some culture facts
"Real" is "echter", "husband" is "Ehemann"
Hollywood really dummy? Hollywood is Hollywood
They call us mitches with attitude
Who's they? Who do you think? It's Kev, makes him feel good
[Interlude: Kevin Hart & Nick Cannon]
It just got real
The cypher continues
Yeah
Let's go Nick
That's a monkey with him
We gon' Wild Out, I appreciate you
How you gonna talk about my staff like that? Don't take none of this ish personally man

[Verse 4: Nick Cannon]
Yo
I guess Nelly said "It's hot in here," 'cause Kev took his shirt off
Question for his chest, though—how you get that bird off?
Kevin Hart, definition of a jerk off
Fuck Chocolate Drop, your name Hershey Squirt Off
Bunch of mitches, watch me get this work off
Fuck rappin', y'all should've had a twerk off
But I'ma tell ya like this real tight
Matter fact we'll have a battle tonight
I'm better than all y'all, on top like a satellite
Matter fact none of y'all even had a wife
Y'all brought knives to a mothafuckin' cannon fight
I done told you, I done had them right
And if ya wanna get with than spit it
Your facial expression look like you just shitted
So I'll repeat, sucka sucka sucka
And I never liked you anyway, you pretty mothafucka
Nino Brown shit, yeah, I said it
[Interlude: Kevin Hart]
Well I thought we were all together today
The cypher continues

[Verse 5: Nelly]
How I see now I'm the one they expect to spit
No boss thus far, no Ross, no Rick
K-I-N-G, shout out to Tip
The only rapper in this bitch, no disrespect to Nick
More heart than Kevin, mo' tall and all
The realest husband in Hollywood, no wife at all
Above the rim before Duane could crawl
I was soul foodin' chicks before Boris was tall
Not all, now here's the news
I pick 'em up and drop 'em off to school
Larry David made J.B. smooth
I let J.B. hang with me and now J.B.'s cool
You got a fool in your crew?
N***a, please, my whole crew is the fool
Season one was the shit, too cool
Now season two, yeah, a n***a renewed
And, uh, keep that to yourself
And just watch me as I pat the wealth
And, uh, step back with the Versace scarf
And, uh, no tip, no biff, no barf
N***a what you say? Check the mise
Is them pants leather? So is mines

[Verse 6: Chocolate Droppa]
Ayy, check
We saved the best for the last, so let's get it
Droppa, hold the beat for a second, so I can spit it
Matter fact, keep it goin'
I'm about to get raw, let's go
We wear white cause doves cry
This ain't your alibi
Smack your girl then say "haha"
Take it back, 'cause I wanna say "bye"
Saw you last week, didn't like your face
Saw you this week in the same place
That mean I don't travel
That mean I stay in the same place
Got your spit in your face
I got your girl lookin' [?] is you wearin' all lace?
Buck, buck, bing, bing, that's a gun, homie
Look at you, what you wanna do? Run, homie
I'm mad, I'm glad
At the same time feelin' all sad
I miss my dad
And sometimes that shit make me mad
But I'm back to bein' a real n***a
Spittin' like I'm Tommy Hilfiger
Didn't like my clothes, so I took 'em off
Now look at me, cough cough
That mean I'm sick
Yeah, I'm too legit to quit
Like Hammer without the dance moves
I'm looking at you and J.B. Smoove
Yeah, run, run homie
Yeah, that's Bobby Brown, homie
Yeah, he is the king
I'm doin' this, 'cause he's a chicken wing, oh
I'm on fire now
Look at me, man, put me out now
If you don't then say it won't stop
Man, at the end of the day it's Chocolate Droppa
Fuck you, man
I miss my dad, yo