Alright, alright, welcome to the label, man
Now check this out, man
Listen i know you're known
For just being honest
And transparent and all that good stuff
But listen, we ain't got no
Time for all that, man
That don't make no money
We need you to tell lies
Lies, and more lies, man
It's all about selling out
Don't give the people what they need
Give 'em what they want, baby
Lie to these folks, man!

I'm on now, I can't even stand me
Look at me, Mama, I'm known now
I got me a Grammy
Call Kami, Khiana, and Tammy
And tell 'em that I made it
Broke my heart in the seventh grade
So this is how I repay 'em
They say that money can't make you
They probably ain't making money
It made me richer than you
And it made me look at you funny
You don't really want it, you
Don't want no problems, problems
Goons be like, "Whatever you need, dawg
Call me"
So I be like doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
"Solve it" money on his head
I put that boy under the water
I can't even rap like that
But insecurity would have me
Sounding whack like that
I already made it when I
Graduated from high school
Ain't validated 'cause I'm at the
Top of the iTunes
But I too was once a fool for nice shoes
Spiteful of dudes who do what I like to
But if I'm honest on the other side of fame
It's the same stains in the latrine
You still can't buy love
And ain't no way to buy off pain
That's why these rich folks
Blow out their brains
More insecure they are the more they brag
Advertising their pain
I don't want no parts of none of that thing
Oh wait, hold up
This where I'm supposed to do something
Lyrical miracle metaphor simile onomatopoeia
On a period
You's a peon, period, I dominate rap
I failed algebra
And I ain't paid my property tax
Oh well, I got bars, family behind bars
Throw money at insecure women and fine cars
People stealing right under my nose
And my taxes whack but no need to worry
My accountant handles that, right
I mean what you expect? I do
Anything to gain your respect, sell out

What you doing, man?
You know you started off good then
You started telling the truth
We ain't got no time for that
This is Lie-A-Lot records
We need you to tell more lies hello?
Hello? Hey where you going, man?
Come back here, man church Clothes 2!
I ain't got to hear that you love it
Cause I know that you love it!

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): Chris Mackey, Le Crae Devaughn Moore, Torrance Anton Esmond