[Chorus: Timbaland]
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People like myself, only hang with self cause that's the way to go
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I can't go outside without findin some new kinfolks
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People on my left, people on my right, all in my earhole
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Make be like whoa and find me somewhere else to go
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[repeat Chorus]
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[Magoo]
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It's Mag from your TV screen, buzzin off the Jim Beam
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But the Mag y'all think y'all know ain't what I seem
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I'm a low-down freak from Seapeak(?)
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See them high school mates, I see 'em and don't speak
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All y'all wanna talk like we used to hang
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Cause I'm doin my thang, now you wanna bask in my fame
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That's why I stay out the club, be in the crib
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Smokin a dub, countin my cash, over the phone
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And I'm sellin cell phones, all with chips
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My nine to bloods, my glock to crips, who want war?
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You and your boys can bring the noise
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But I'ma bring hand grenades, now you're laid!
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Pull out my dick, piss on your bitch-ass
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Sit on your face, now you gotta kiss ass
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Who fiend for fame life belong to your fans
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and haters and thugs that wanna end your lifespan
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[Chorus]
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[Timbaland]
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Uhh, uhh, uhh - since I got bigger (bigger)
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I'm over here and y'all recite Tim's my nigga (nigga)
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Like I just figure (figure)
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And my tracks didn't help niggaz
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So for rememdy I pound niggaz
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Like I keep 'em in DJ's for that new Jigga
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Like them forty-two Girbauds
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I pocket every demo, like Timbaland - he's that next nigga
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Confirmed by people that she can blow
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Convinced Booker T she's the next to go
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Now I'm checkin every joint and every unit I sold
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Once I'm deep in the dough, I'm deep with a crew
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In the 80's y'all screamed like the movie is through
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Y'all screamin this is "Nutty Professor: Part II"
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To "Eyes Wide Shut" to whoever I choose
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I can appreciate a Kidman to a, Tom Cruise
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To a, fast food, I'm strictly drive-through
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The money I gave dudes I basically raised fools
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[Chorus]
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[Magoo]
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Even the phone spit it, God know what I'm thinkin
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I'm drinkin and smokin and stressin, go to church for confession
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Down on my knees, beggin to God, show me the path
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My label is jerkin me workin me so the devil can lurk in me
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Sick of niggaz bitchin, wishin I'd fail
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Tell 'em Mag be the rap effin Kenan and Kel
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I'm spittin the version of verses curses over the churches
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Rappin mo' iller than thriller Manila and give you salmonella
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[Timbaland]
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Stop, the press!
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Bitch, you can't afford that dress, you can't afford that hairdo
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I don't want your sex, here take your fast food
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"Tim you're dead wrong, Tim you're dead rude!"
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Hey girl, I don't even know you
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"Timbaland we're your first cousin Marion Sue"
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My momma never ever mentioned you
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My momma also told me to watch them savage boos, what?
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[Chorus: sung by Static - repeat 2X]
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-----------------
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People Like Myself
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| Timbaland |
