Lyrics My Interview - Rittz

My Interview

I hate doing this shit
Reporter: Hello?
Rittz: Hey what up?
This is Rittz, I was calling to do the interview with you
today
Reporter: Oh, hey Rittz.
Let me just get my recorder ready, and I’ll be ready
when you are
Rittz: Okay cool, shit I’m ready, let’s do it
Reporter: So tell me… who is Rittz?
That’s a stupid question
Bitch, Rittz is me
A white boy from Gwinnett County Georgia
Been doing for some years never gave up
Now I get to live my dream
Reporter: And… when did you start to rap?
I think I started to rap back in '92
I used to rhyme to Snoop
With some dude that I rode the bus with
Who played Geto Boys for me when I ride to school
And I was hooked
Reporter: So… how’d your family act?
About the fact of rap they used to hate it
Said that I was actin' black, pull your pants up boy
Mom and dad would snap
I had the black lumberjack with the hat to match
Reporter: Did you make good grades?
Hell no, I flunked
Seventh grade, eigth grade, ninth grade and up
I got expelled from selling weed and when I came back
Everyday they would check my book bag for drugs
Reporter: Where did you get the name Rittz from?
That’s another dumb question
Are you a dumb bitch?
It’s obvious that I got the named after the cracker
Because I’m white, please next subject
Reporter: You got an attitude, homie?
I apologize
Plus I’m a little drunk and I’m always tired
I done answer these questions a thousand times
And people still don’t know my name and oh my God
It’s like
Everybody’s asking all this shit about me
Wondering where I came from
Questioning my surroundings
And the same motherfuckers that dap me
Be the haters that used to doubt me
And I’m trying to answer their questions but my memories just too cloudy for
My interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Where you from? G. A,)
Fucked up in my interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Where you from? G. A)
Pissed off in my interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Where you from? G. A)
Representin in my interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Who you with? STRANGE!)
Reporter: Was it hard to come here in Atlanta scene?
Yeah, it kinda sucked
If you ain’t make the type of shit they play inside the club
Then the strippers don’t dance and the radio don’t play you
Besides they ain’t show Northside no love
Reporter: You’re from Gwinnett County?
God damn right
There’s a ton of us to represent so hard
Don’t let the word suburb throw you off
Alot of people moved here, get their head blown off
Reporter: I heard you rap about drugs alot
You probably would too if you grew up through the shit I seen
16 I was sniffing things, the shit changed when '96 Olympics came
Reporter: What you mean?
Everybody and their mama came to GC
Lot of home invasions, armed robberies
We kept running from the GCPD
Cause the crime rate kept increasing weekly
Reporter: So does that effect what you rhyme about?
Fuck yes
So many nights, I spent in my mama’s house
Geeked up on white, scared that I’m OD’ing
Thinking I’mma die trying to ride it out
Reporter: Not to change the subject, what’s up with your hair?
God damn why do people care
Got grown men coming up to me when it’s tucked in like
«Please say you didn’t cut it, is it there?»
And I swear it’s like
Everybody’s asking all this shit about me
Wondering where I came from
Questioning my surroundings
And the same motherfuckers that dap me
Be the haters that used to doubt me
And I’m trying to answer their questions but my memories just too cloudy for
My interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Where you from? G. A,)
Fucked up in my interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Where you from? G. A)
Pissed off in my interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Where you from? G. A)
Representin in my interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Who you with? STRANGE!)
Reporter: So Yelawolf discovered you, right?
He said if he ever got the chance he would put me on
And when he blew, he did, I owe him everything
So if anybody fuck with my dude they dead
Reporter: So is it still Slumerican?
Of course it is
What up Shawty Fatt?
What up, Strug'?
What up Newport, what up Will?
I’m about to kill shit
Can’t nobody touch us dawg
Reporter: What do you say to those who say you rap too fast?
Don’t listen if you don’t like the way that I rhyme
It cost you nothin', pay me no mind
Old slow boat fuck a lemon and lime
Reporter: You gettin' money now, right?
I came off tour with like twenty grand
I put a down payment on a new car
Paid my manager’s off now I got like six
'Til I go out of town again
Reporter: How’s your girlfriend dealing with your new success
When I’m gone on the road all she does is cry
And acuses me of cheatin' and sleepin' with chicks
When I’m usually chilling gettin' drunk and high
Reporter: Last question, do you think the world is ready for a fat long hair
piece of shit like you?
What?
Fuck yeah bitch indeed I do, and I guess I gotta make you a believer too
It’s like
Everybody’s asking all this shit about me
Wondering where I came from
Questioning my surroundings
And the same motherfuckers that dap me
Be the haters that used to doubt me
And I’m trying to answer their questions but my memories just too cloudy for
My interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Where you from? G. A,)
Fucked up in my interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Where you from? G. A)
Pissed off in my interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Where you from? G. A)
Representin in my interview…
(What's your name? Rittz bitch. Who you with? STRANGE!)
Reporter: P. S. Don’t you ever called me a bitch.
Simple ass motherfucker.
Red headed bastard get the fuck outta here.
Make this your first and last
interview with me.
Cracker