This is the part where I'm supposed to go
Big up myself and do my promo
While I, spittin' lines, I make the peace sign
Sayin', "Y'all how ya doin', y'all? Feelin' fine!"
NO, I ain't gonna do that shit!
Back-biting bitchiness, one-up-manship
Above in the helicopters they sit the haters like flies round a fresh pile of shit
They all think I'm fly, but I think they're shit
I could sell records just by touchin my clit
On the cover of my album while takin a shit
I'll sell even more if I keep using the word "shit"!

Who's more underground, who's more down?
Who's the original , original clown?
Who's your favorite puppet on a string, the tone on you phone when it goes ring-ring?
Who's more ghetto kid, who's been crowned?
Who's got the cheapest, the cheapest sounds?
Who's that other one who really can't sing, shouting, "Keep it real" while you shake a ting-ting?

This is the part where I'm supposed to go
I'm sorry I left, I didn't even let you know!
I could instead start to get into the flow
And like many others, give Great Britain a blow
Saturday night in England, on the telly, fucking Cilla
She's so old, she's still there, can't believe that no one killed her
Drive-by shootings happenin every single day,
But British dinosaurs like her, I guess they're here to stay
Forever, forever, forever, forever

Who's more underground, who's more down?
Who's the original , original clown?
Who's your favorite puppet on a string, the tone on you phone when it goes ring-ring?
Who's more ghetto kid, who's been crowned?
Who's got the cheapest, the cheapest sounds?
Who's that other one who really can't sing, shouting, "Keep it real" while you shake a ting-ting?