[Murs:]

And I'm the four-letter word that you don't bleep out

Got a question for you rappers rollin wit'cha heats out

Is this really where you wanna be when Jesus come back?

Lyin 'bout your life, over beats comin whack?

And you say I'm backpack, cause I don't have a gat

Man I just love life, and I'm dealin with the facts

I'm young, I'm gifted, I'm beautiful and black

And my momma didn't raise no fool like that

I understand that you broke, you tryin to get money

But you don't start gangbangin in your mid-20's

Don't know nothin 'bout the beef, or the gang that you claimin

You ain't even worth namin!

... But I got a right hook that'll vacate your Timberlands

Take this outside, set it straight like gentlemen

I do feel the music so I kinda respect it

But don't confuse ill lyrics with real street credit, c'mon


[Interlude:]

Wat'chu gon' do man, ha?

Get knocked out

I'm real official like a referee with a whistle boy

Get it right man

My man Murs yo shut these cats down, holla!


[Murs:]

I got my wallet in my pocket and my money in my sock

Cause that's how it be when it's funny on the block

Like it be on TV when these dummies try to rock

With they secondhand flows like they runnin on a clock

In a one minute cycle, I'm done with the rifles

The tecs, the 9's, the killers, the psychos

... Look, now can we party?

And I want a Shirley Temple cause I don't drink Bacardis

... But in a minute I'ma probably

try to holla at a hottie with a, nice shaped body

If she's into what I'm into we should worship at my temple

I'ma, grind from behind as we wind to the tempo

If she break it down slow, then it feel like mo'

That's a Mayfield line for all of y'all who don't know

All I do is have fun and bring life to the fans

And I, don't need a gun cause I'm nice with my hands, c'mon


[Interlude:]

Nice with my hands dawg, never seen the floor man

Ask somebody, check the stats!

Murs man, yo get at these fools though

Let 'em know what's good baby, woo!


[Murs:]

We shocked the world last year when, nobody heard of me

My boy he got skills that's like, musical surgery

Me you know the deal I'm a lyrical emergency

We keepers of the real, just consider us security

of the world, 9th, somethin like top flight

As long as we in control everything's alright

While the rest will steer you wrong with them songs that they thought up

I wrestle with these words but I'm never gettin caught up

... In the drama and the BS

Jumped up out the underground, you know I gotta be fresh

Rhymes runnin through my mind all day, I press eject

I gotta lay 'em down on these beats cause they need wreck

Yesssss, I'm back for the title

And I brought an iron fist, just to smack all your rivals

Woulda thought I ran track, the way I ran through my rivals

Man I swear I'm the truth, slap my hand on the bible

Let's go