[Live Intro]
Now keep in mind that I'm an artist
And I'm sensitive about my shit
But y'all been nice about it, alright
Sisters, how y'all feel?
Brothers, y'all alright?
Lemme see how y'all groove to this
Alright

[Verse 1]
I'm gettin' tired of your shit
You don't never buy me nothin'
See, every time you come around
You gotta bring Jim, James, Paul, and Tyrone
See, why can't we be by ourselves, sometimes?
See, I've been having this on my mind for a long time
I just want it to be you and me
Like it used to be, baby
But you don't know how to act
So matter of fact

[Chorus]
I think you better call Tyrone (Call him)
And tell him come on, help you get your shit
(Come on, come on, come on)
You need to call Tyrone (Call him)
And tell him I said come on
[Verse 2]
Now every time I ask you for a little cash
You say "Naw," but turn right around and ask me for some ass
Oh, woah, well, hold up, listen, partner
I ain't no cheap thrill
Cause Miss Badu's always comin' for real
And you know the deal, n***a
Every time we go somewhere, I gotta reach down in my purse
To pay your way and your homeboys' way
And sometimes your cousin's way
They don't never have to pay, don't have no cars
Hang around in bars, try to hang around with stars
Like Badu, I'ma tell you the truth
Show and prove or get the boot

[Chorus]
I think you better (Call him)
And tell him come on, help you get your shit
(Come on, come on, come on)
You need to call Tyrone (Call him)
Hold on
But you can't use my phone