[Intro: Crystal Renee]
Is it me? Is it you boy? x3
Is it really me?
Cyhi! Yea!

[Verse 1: Cyhi The Prynce]
Is it me or do these rappers sound like Al Capone?
If everybody serving bricks then who bagging zones?
How can you rap about it on a song
But get 25 years for rapping about it on the phone?
Is it me or is these n***as telling stories 'Ye? (HUH)
I done seen more D then where Berry Gordy stay
Everyday I see a n***a snitchin' on First 48
These dudes ain't gangstas, they just actors, Sidney Poitier
Don't get me wrong my n***a, I endorse the streets
But, you won't support your kids but go support the freaks
Last night, at the club, you blew like a quarter ki
But when the feds come, you can barely pay your lawyer fees?
Is it me or do these n***as got the game backwards, huh?
It's hard to explain rappers
We get money to buy the chain that we slave after
But we mentally still a slave to that same master

[Hook: Crystal Renee]
Oh, is it me? is it me? is it me baby?
Is it me? is it me? is it me baby?
Oh, is it me? is it you boy? is it really me?
[Verse 2: Cyhi The Prynce]
Is it really me cause I ain't really feeling these new rap n***as
Pardon my soliloquies
But honesty is what we really need
Ran with a crew full of cap peelers, but that wasn't really me
I used to trap n***a with them nicks like I'm Willis Reed
Dealing weed opened a lot of doors for me, chivalry
Plus you get less time getting caught with this than with a ki
In the streets it's hard for you to sleep like on Christmas Eve
But silly me for ever thinking you was really G
All these rappers selling birds, I swear this shit is killing me
They have shackles on your wrist all the way down where your achilles be
And ya'll still listen to it, is it me?

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Tate Dumonde]
Most of your favorite rappers never shit
It's clearly evident, the flow that I'm giving them heads heaven-sent
Life could be sour as pickles but you gotta relish it
The lyrics that I spit is what I'm living
And you embellish it
Pay attention, n***a never had a pot to piss in
Bragging about riches, they tripping, that's why I rarely listen
N***a you ain't never sold at all
Or what you copped, it didn't lock, so you flexed and had them serving salt
My future bright and it shining just like a bowling ball
Respect the real, so they see me and never notice ya'll
Is it me or is these n***as fake?
Don't understand it Prynce you matching with they lyrics
And I can't relate
I got some partners doing dimes, it's like a bitch today
So what I spit is serious, period, like I menstruate
I paint pictures just like I'm selling them art
And clip n***as up with these lines, now that's a hell of a part
It's Tate!