Ayo, this next song is a true story (Come here, bitch) 'Cause some things in this universe Don't make sense But somehow always seem to fuckin' work

Flying down I-75, 'bout to hop on 696 I look over, this fuckin' chick's tryin' to fix Her makeup, I'm like, "Bitch, you ain't a plastic surgeon I advise ya to put up your visor, I'm gettin' kinda ticked You're blockin' my side mirror," she's like, "Yeah, so?" I'm like, "So? You gon' need a stitch you keep acting like that, ho I look like your husband, slut? That's a rhetorical question You talk to me like you talk to him, I'll fuck you up In fact, get in the backseat, like the rest of my dates No bitch rides shotgun; what? Taxi? Stop and pick you some Maxi Pads up? Is that what you actually ask me?" Bitch reaches over and smacks me Says I annoy the fuck outta her, get in the fuckin' back Put on your slut powder, you slut, what? And shut the fuck up now, or get your feelings hurt Worse than my last chick when I accidentally butt dialed her And she heard me spreadin' AIDS rumors about her Turn the radio up louder, make it thump While I bump that Relapse CD Tryin' to hit every bump in that cunt Thought I snapped back into accents 'Cause she kept asking me to quit calling her "cunt" I said, "I can't!", she said...

Marshall, you ain't really like that, oh, oh, oh You're puttin' on a show, where's your mic at? 'Cause you're breakin' my heart She said, you're breakin' my heart 'Cause you ain't really like that, oh, oh, oh You're puttin' on a show, where's your mic at? 'Cause you're breakin' my heart She said, you're breakin' my heart

Uh, pull up to the club in a Porsche, not a Pinto While Marshall's at a white trash party, I'm at drama central I walk up in there lookin' at my phone, on Twitter, tweetin' I'm feelin' a bunch of bitches looking at a nigga, cheesin' I get approached by this little skeezer, she asked me Am I the realest G? 'Cause I'm Gucci from head to feet I said, "Yeah, I'm really is, 'cause I spit in your man's face Like Cam did that little kid on Killin' Season" She said, "I'm feelin' your big ego, wait, am I talkin' wrong?" I said, "Nah, I'm a walkin' Kanye/Beyonce song" She said, "I'm mad at you," I said, "Why?" She said "Why you never make songs for chicks as if it's hard to do?" I said, "I make songs for me, leave the studio, and go And fuck the bitch who belong to who making songs for you" She said, "I'm feelin' your whole swagger and flow Can we hook up?" I said, "Umm, you just used the word swagger So, no!" She said...

You ain't really like that, oh, oh, oh You're puttin' on a show, where's your mic at? 'Cause you're breakin' my heart She said, you're breakin' my heart 'Cause you ain't really like that, oh, oh, oh You're puttin' on a show, where's your mic at? 'Cause you're breakin' my heart She said, you're breakin' my heart

We been riding around in this hatchback 'til I'm fuckin' hunchback Where the fuck's this party at, slutbag cunt? Cut what act? Think it's an act? Fuck that, I'm tryin' to shag, skuzz Better find this love shack or somewhere to fuck at Ah, don't touch that, you fat dyke! I'm tryin' to hear some "Bagpipes from Baghdad" Don't act like you don't like 'em, them accents, I rap tight And I'mma torture you 'til we find this place, yeah, that's right Thought it was just past this light, just past Van Dyke Better hit that map light, read them directions, oh yeah You can't read, and you can't write, you told me that last night She took my CD out the deck, snapped it in half like "Relapse sucked," I snapped, hit the gas like Blew through the light, spun out, hit a patch of black ice Forgot we had a trailer hitched to the back, we jackknifed Bitch flew out the car, I laughed like she deserved it She didn't think I'd act like that in person (Royce, Marshall just crashed right in front of the club)

Tell him I'll be there in a minute I'm tryna break up this catfight Between my mistress and damn wife Then a chick wanted a hug, she was fat, so I gave her dap Then I tell her to scat, I'm not mean, I'm cute On my way to the front door, takin' the scenic route To avoid this chick with a lace front Lookin' like Venus's and Serena's hooves I'm just sayin', them chicks got horse asses, they been attractive Hope when they see me They don't slap me with they tennis racquets My mind drifted, back to this shit: I see my wife push her down Step over her body, then smack the mistress Police outside, I turn and pass the gat to Vishis Then I step out and see my evil twin, he gives me an evil grin He mugs the mistress, turns around And gives the missus hugs and kisses Looks at me twisted, like Nickel ("Yeah, watch this shit") He smacks the dentures out of the mouth Of the fat bitch he rolled with, and looks back to mention "Royce, it's good to be back to business!"

They said, you ain't really like that, oh, oh, oh You're puttin' on a show, where's your mic at? 'Cause you're breakin' our hearts They said, you're breakin' our hearts 'Cause you ain't really like that, oh, oh, oh You're puttin' on a show, where's your mic at? 'Cause you're breakin' our hearts They said, you're breakin' our hearts