| And in from the door steps a dumbass struts the fool’s gold
|
| Know-it-all, and you wear it well
|
| Funk-less in full length
|
| Too square to stand for anything
|
| Somebody get that man a chair
|
| No matter where you opt to sit, the opposite-attract law don’t fit
|
| Repel even the docile
|
| Always showing your nostrils, got em hostile
|
| The way you’re so uppity, till someone barks on ya
|
| You get puppy feet
|
| Quite a laugh, cause you don’t know half, but act like you own a puzzle
|
| And everyone allegedly under you, begging just to guzzle from your fountain of
|
| fresh
|
| (Hashtag)
|
| Fuck outta here, they rather stay clear
|
| Roll up the papers and pass
|
| While you turn your nose from the smell
|
| Like Stanley on Fridays
|
| Saying we should stay off the grass
|
| As if the lines you sniff is more healthy
|
| Delusions of prestige is not where the health be
|
| B, you need to get it together
|
| But nah, here comes you, part Frank Drebin, part Mr. Magoo
|
| Stay stepping into trouble
|
| Oh so when you’re repping for your bubble
|
| But bubbles can get popped, exposed to reality
|
| Watch the words that drop
|
| There’s not enough salary to cover the check
|
| 'Fore you’re behind on cash
|
| People can see you coming like 9/11 ash
|
| Toxic till your last days
|
| And with your shady maneuvers
|
| No one will include you where they ass stays
|
| Behold your royal highness of sinus
|
| It’s near 100 miles of running cause your nose needs plumbin'
|
| Captain Nose-dive reporting for duty on the good ship Handkerchief, all aboard
|
| And that goes for you too, Nostril-damus
|
| He who knows nose
|
| And from the from the rooty to the tooty he defines snooty
|
| Somebody asked me the other day is the brother a brother
|
| Does Kleenex wipe?
|
| Yeah I see that
|
| Like you got one eye on top of your third
|
| A star is born but whose claimin' that birthright
|
| At first sight you the well dressed Park Ave sachet
|
| Acclimated to the scent of your own tail (the bullshit)
|
| The same bull that rage when the buck stops
|
| You’ll be walkin' on clouds but that’s a smoke machine
|
| See your dineros can’t buy bliss, you high fist then
|
| Turn into you flippin' the bird
|
| And every man under your wing
|
| You build your nest egg but you was spoiled rotten
|
| Forgotten you can get robbed of your fame
|
| Beak out like pelicans
|
| You relishin' the fact that you stand feet from stardom
|
| You bargain astonishin' antiques in this modern way of livin'
|
| So tight and not a half size forgivin', you takin' the piss
|
| You got a butler in duplex
|
| Them two Tecs and our God won’t protect ya
|
| Can’t stay in them white gloves for too long Mr. Handyman
|
| Canaries don’t chirp in your candy land
|
| Give them motherfuckin' pigeons a hug
|
| And then he strolls through the valley of dark
|
| Nincompoop, simpleton
|
| Stranger to his own father
|
| Seldom down to get down
|
| And just never stays up
|
| Well, I’m yours son
|
| We talkin' up there like a satellite
|
| Species: canis lupus, unfamiliar
|
| What’s happening, dog?
|
| You smell more like pig to me
|
| La-la-la-la-la
|
| Do-do-do-do
|
| Be careful with your nose bro
|
| La-la-la-la-la
|
| Do-do-do-do
|
| Be careful with your nose bro
|
| La-la-la-la-la
|
| Do-do-do-do
|
| Be careful with your nose bro
|
| La-la-la-la-la
|
| Do-do-do-do
|
| Be careful with your nose bro |