Who Are You (feat. Royce da 5'9" & Melanie Rutherford)

Uh, I ain't gon' even lie

I be havin' things on my mind all of the time that I think I need

And I be knowin' that I ain't gon' even buy

I'ma prolly just rob and scheme

Man, I'ma rob you in a ride so clean

I ain't even gon' rob you blind

****, I'ma rob you seen

I'm from a far side, no side you done seen

Y'all slaves to y'all own mind

And I'ma just play apartheid with your queen

Mane, I ain't gon' even lie

Your bitch badder than a bag full of new cash of that rare tender

Ever since she got that new ass that she been draggin'

Fam', she done been the last air bender

Comin' around here in them yoga pants

Fuck makin' a pass, I done passed that

Man, that bitch can have my whole advance

I might even have to go against my better judgment

Say, fuck it and hold her hand

Damn, I ain't gon' even lie

Sunflower seeds the only time you prolly see shells fly

Violence be right in my driveway by a **** mailbox

I don't know why I keep sayin' I ain't gon' lie

Man, I don't even tell lies

**** be claimin' that they bleed loyalty

**** be sayin' that they come from royalty

But who are you, who are you?

Yo, look, there's wisdom in my words, but some men can't see it

Thinkin' they gon' find the truth in that shit they readin'

My pen stay bleedin'

This the pain from them days I spent sittin' next to moms

In them NA meetin's

Knowin' she gon' smoke again

First of the month, we was rollin' and by time the fourth came

We was broke again

So the dope man fed us with gram sellers

I'm more Manuel Noriega than Mandela

They want me in the jam like I don't know no damn better

Crammed in a three-man cell, skimmin' through fan letters

Like, what the fuck I'm doin' here in the first place?

When all the weed burn out, I'm in my worst shape

I think I'm cursed, wait, damn

Brand new pistol, I'm dyin' to take that bitch out like a first date

When it's my turn, watch the game just shifted

My brain is sickest, so every line pain inflicted

My brother went out like dark skinned Jermaine, I miss him

He had a bullet with his name and a chain was sittin'

I hang with spitters, but really got my name in kitchens

So I do it for them **** with that same ambition

Mister Park, where the bitches and the cars get faster

The richer these rappers get, it's like the bars get trasher

I'm the wrong rapper **** wanna target after

I'm like Bob Backlund mixed in with Marvin Hagler, the Butcher

**** be claimin' that they bleed loyalty

**** be sayin' that they come from royalty

But who are you, who are you?