[Intro]
Yo. What the fuck is up? My name is Speak, or Speakymadonna if you're nasty
And a lot of people been asking me, "Yo man, where you been for the last year?"
And I'm like "Yo, I've been in the fucking gutter. Eating cuppa noodles, and fucking ugly fat bitches that I met off Jdate and Etsy."
But I wrote this song for you

Bitches call me pretty, I'm mistaken for Ronaldo
Facial hair exquisite, legendary like Geraldo, Rivera
Swing with the yogi bear attire
Novak Djokovic, backstroke choke a bitch
Come like a boss, chill out then I smoke a bit
Who got the words they get you higher than some opiates
Inhale quarters like a vending machine
I still keep an close eye on my enemy fiends

Well, I pray the based god is keeping you blessed
We got, black widow kisses for the angel of death
And my thrift store clothes keep me beautifully dressed
The blunt force of my ego might bludgeon your chest, yes
I'm a rarity, never been a parity
Red eye flight smoked out for the clarity
You treatin' hoes like they a charity case
Still trickin' hella dough like it's a part of a chase

I might fuck her face like it's a part of her waist
And blow three hundred dollars on elaborate stakes, dig
Last year we was eatin' [?] ramen - wait wait wait
Fuck that, still eatin' [?] ramen
If my fam don't eat, then my fam start robbin'
If my dick start throbbin' baby girl use your noggin'

Damn speak I heard you grew up in a manger
Next to baby Jesus and them yellow power rangers
Three wise men brought you gifts of gold
With them minx and fur coats to battle the cold
You had FIFA on the big screen, chiefin' on the big green
Sleep around promiscuous but always kept my dick clean
Now who the fuck wears a condom to the orgy
Life'll fuck you over never call you in the mornin'
Faded keeps sleepin' fuck it kill him while he's snorin'
Faded keeps sleepin' fuck it kill him while he's snorin'
[I'm?] cool enough for Pitchfork, or black enough for Worldstar
But if I catch you slippin' I'mma mash you with them crowbars
No deal or recording contract
But I still got my name on a fucking gold plaque, yeah
The little know it all who ain't afraid to blow it all
On Aaliyah look-alikes and denim Tommy overalls
Baby girl, I've been watching you
Like a creep in the minivan parked around the block
Not a hawk nor an animal, my legion is doom
And spring is in bloom, there's plenty reason to shroom
So, you can tell Carmina, I'll serve her my subpoena
And if she'll feelin' freaker I'll fuck her to Selena
And bidi-bidi bam-ba, all over that sexy ass, girl

[Outro]
Mua, fuego. Once again, my name is Speak, and I'm a westside [argon...?] Craigslist killer. For the nine-nine, the 2000. That pizza wave shit. Shout out to Syd on the beat, and Westside Ty the beeper king. And shout out to Christina for braiding my hair. Look at me, I look like Sean Paul. Sean Paul

Come on and braid my hair
My hair, my hair, yeah