[Chorus:]
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
What do you take us for?
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
What do you take us for?
[Verse 1:]
I'm a phenomenon, and I gotta bring pain in The Octagon,
When I wanna spit game at a soccer mom,
I get it quicker than the left lane on the Autobahn, fast
Like Ramadan, and I battle young Padawans all the damn day,
I'm getting naked and I'm hopping on a wrecking ball
So hot, I got the motherfucker a la flambé.
I go to Miley's house, I see that Miley's home,
I play Miley's ribcage with my dick like it's a Xylie-phone,
Yes, that was highly fucked up, but my skills are highly honed,
And if I was highly hyphy, I might be more widely-known.
C'est la vie, better pay my fee,
They kick it in Seattle in a Patagonia jacket,
They get it in the Bay in a plain white tee.
Hey, mami, you a P.Y.T.,
You wanna see me speak, then I go, go, go, go!
‘Cause, every time I get a beat, I know I gotta beat it up,
I bend it then I break it, then I chop it, then I eat it up,
And PETA would never approve of the way
I've been treating the music, I bleed it, I bruise it,
I kick it to the curb, and then I'm sipping on my bourbon,
I be freaking it, doing it, keeping it moving,
I'm picking apart the muscle when I'm thinking about the hustle,
But I'm nice, nice!
[Chorus:]
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
What do you take us for?
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
What do you take us for?
[Verse 2]
I jump the freeway median, I'm savage,
‘Cause my mode is that I'm meaner than the average.
Like my teacher taught me when I heard the crowd applaud,
I thought I was an atheist until I realized I'm a God.
It could hurt a bit when I murder shit,
In a moment I'll be tying off a tourniquet,
When I burn ‘em and I hit them in the sternum,
I don't even got to enter, but I'm gonna win the tournament.
That's what I'm all about,
I do what I gotta do and never gonna pout,
And I hope that it would have been the end of it, and I'm out,
But they never tend to give me the benefit of the doubt.
Ever since I was a little kid
I know that I've been looking for the hot, hot spotlight,
And if you really wonder what I think about the competition,
They were not-not-not tight.
I've been reading my scripture,
Every photo bomber wanna be in my picture,
And you better bet I'm living every single day,
Like it's the motherfucking Catalina Wine Mixer.
Bada bing bada boom!
When I walk in, I'm the king of the room,
And I get it locked in like the king in a tomb,
When I spit a toxin and they cough on the fumes.
‘Cause I'm back in the nick of time and attacking the fickle mind,
I'm a jackal, I'll rip his hide, I'ma tackle him, pick a fight,
I be Dracula, set to bite in the black of the bitter night,
And I'm out, poof!
[Chorus:]
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
What do you take us for?
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
What do you take us for?