I'm in the wrong fucking place, at the wrong fucking time       Don't worry motherfucker cause I'll still get mine       I know the magnitude of the right attitude       Remember one day you'll be showing me gratitude       Inevitably you will agree, your fragile ego I'm denting       Unnecessary jealousy, why are you resenting       Lucky Boys Confusion ripping leaves off clovers       Adam I'm about to send the limelight over, kid       Well, hello my my how the tables have turned       You got your new style and the tricks that you learned       From me, go let go of the ghetto phase       It's like everybody's trying to earn a buck these days       Ripping off my kids, with your ziplock bags       You think you're rolling now, you need to step the fuck back       We'll take care of Arizona, handle the schwag       Shorty got a brand new bag       When say opportunity knock on me door       Such a shame it's not the music, it's how much they score in their pocket       Now, the band plays I see the dollar sign in your eyes       But guess what Mr. Parasite we can see through all of your lies       I'm rocking mic stands daily, I'm merely       Two blocks away from the venue,       It's not as if you can hear me, clearly       Bringing up on the styles which were ours, nearly       With help from the stars of the past       Enhanced with your modern day melodies       Beats that kick your ass and you agree       I'm not up here to rock the room alone       Stubhystyle pick up the microphone       I'm back by popular demand, some people don't understand       Why I'm laughing fucking up all the shit you planned       Cause your motives weren't true and either were you       Trying to figure out how I do the things I do       A word of advice if you already haven't       Go out, step out, special order some talent       Don't say I'm not a musician cause I can hold my own       And bitch I play the microphone       Ooooh, mama did you hear they want make me superstar       Ooooh, mama did you hear they're gonna make me a star       You seemed startled by the way that I approach the mic       But isn't my tongue spitting out all the things you like       Mixing flavors together like Neapolitan, tight       Clam baking the limousine       He sprinkles on his stardust before he hits the street       A victim of his ego, pop rock society       His gear is nice and trendy; you got your baggy jeans       He's got a few piercings but nothing to extreme       Radio friendly writings is the highway to money       Maybe we'll be stars if we give them what they need       I get twelve percent off the music I make       And the image that they're selling you is fake