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)