[Verse 1:]
Picture me tryin' to prove myself
Like I'm convinced a shot of vodka would improve my health

Or move my wealth to seven-hundred-and-four figures
Got more ^!$$%s tryin' to hate on my flow than Rah Digga
Bigger balls than last year, I'm @@#!y as ever

And more fly than a box of Czechoslovakian sweaters
When I hop in the Jetta
I put my CD on blast

If you don't like me ^!$$% $#&@ you, kiss my $$#
I ain't got nothin' to prove, so you can beat it
^!$$%s heated when I breathe on the mic, I'm so conceited

I give a %#@! if you don't like what I'm rappin'
Go back to your rims, your grills, your pills, your ice and your trappin'
Y'all ignorant ^!$$%s, y'all need help

Don't you know my track record? Man it speaks for itself
I kept the best beats for myself
My instrumentals out of reach on the shelf

You can't touch me

[Chorus: x2]

I don't need to prove myself
I don't need to prove myself


[Verse 2:]
How many times must I tell ya?
Catering to everyone turns you to a failure

That's why I don't get mad when they say that I'm wack
Or hate on my tracks, talkin' all that %#@! in my ear, yeah
Get off my dick and tell your (*##$ to come here

The first cat to drop an album and get rich in one year
Got more status in my pinky than Patricia Romer'
In her whole career

Charismatic with a capital K
The Smooth Kriminal is back to put the wackness to shame
It didn't have to happen this way

But I got sick of ^!$$%s rappin' the same
You need practice mayne
I'm in a class of my own

The rap game's George Thorogood, I'm +Bad To The Bone+
I'm glad to be home, quit talkin' all that trash on the phone
Don't call me with that bull%#@!, you can rap to the tone

Holla

[Chorus x2]


[Verse 3:]
I give a $#&@ who you battled against

Underground/mainstream, yo I straddle the fence
When I step up to the mic, all the kids say "wow"
I'll bet you're probably gonna want me on your mixtape now

It's great how a dude tries to do his own thing
Tries to spread his own wings then a diss breaks out
First album that I dropped was a classic

Took it to the radio and then they tried to trash it
Callin' me a lame but really I'm the last sick
^!$$% with a habit of kickin' ^!$$%s $$#es quick

And I don't really give a $#&@ about who's tough
You'd figure that the lyrics that I'm spittin' would be proof enough
But no; if I ain't talkin' 'bout 'caine-sniffin'

Wood grain-grippin', lane-switchin', bangin' the fifth
Then I ain't really sayin' %#@! or D. Swain is a (*##$
But I ain't changin' what I spit until D. Swain is richer than you

The $#&@ I gotta listen to you for?
You ^!$$%s swear you're too hardcore, I'm havin' fun with this %#@!


[Chorus x2]