Hey, don't you hate those types of people
That believe they're in a movie
And their movie needs a sequel?
That the world revolves around the sound of their voice

They make my psyche feel so tiny
And my sanity go feeble
But that's not me though
I know I have an ego
I know that I'm a jerk sometimes and hypocritical
Don't mean to get political, but I know some elipticals
That have more functionality, a part of me just want their gang to see me

I simply do not give a fuck
You say I'm trash, bitch, I'm the truck
You'd kiss my ass and hold my cup
If you had found out who I was
I need no lines, I'm just upset
You make me want to be past tense
Speaking so loud, but sound so dense
You're not that guy, bro, no offense

I don't get bitches, I get money
Got real friends who think I'm funny
I don't smoke and I don't party at all
I got coupons in my pockets
And I rarely shop at Target
I don't flex my seven figures at all
I don't get— (umm)

I simply don't give a fuck
'Bout what you got for lunch
Uneducated and plastic faces
I'd pay to see get punched
Every time I see a Billboard for Gucci
There's around 9 to 10 homeless men to find wealth disparity

I don't care who your husband is
I don't care how many girls you've kissed
How many lives you've influenced
You're just like everybody else
I'm only ever in the hills
Because the label pays my bills
I'd rather be at home with monsters
Than in the city of angels

I don't get bitches, I get money
Got real friends who think I'm funny
I don't smoke and I don't party at all
I got coupons in my pockets
And I rarely shop at Target
I don't flex my seven figures at all
I don't get— (umm)