[Verse 1: Hit-Boy]
 All these niggas really know my at bat average, ridiculous rap patterns
 And [bad word] what you know, this Youngen got the coldest beats
 All my old hoes laying in the coldest sheets
 Even if they married they still can't get over me
 You 0 for 3, I'm shooting a hundred right from the field now
I'm just a Fresh Prince, buzzing like Uncle Phil's child
And I Will style, peace to all my Hilary's
Stuffin' money in banks, hitting Marilyn's like a Kennedy
And if you feeling me, just let me know it
'Cos I just set the stage and get these words off like a poet
I'm Robert Frost cold on these hoes, I just give them the
 Edgar Allen Po' up
Sippin something expensive and party 'till they throw up
 Hold up

All my niggas roll up, until the cops show up
 My momma says "My-My son is a millionaire"
 And just for that, throw your ones up in the air
 This is Freshman Adjustment meets Late Registration
 Connected up with the kings all 'cos of Ricky's relations
 Tell the [bad word] I've been studying since I started creating
 Now all these niggas is hating, waiting, judging, debating
 Tryin' to charge me with a flagrant, but I will not stop
They tryin' to Derek Fisher the boy, but I will not flop
Instead I take it bassline, like Kobe
And I play my own [bad word] and basslines, you know me, homie
 I'm getting courted by the bosses
 The Ye's, the Hov's, the Puff's, and all them [bad word] s who's notorious for flossing
Known to be in places these niggas ain't never heard of
 I [bad word] women and watched thrones up in the Mercer
Sign my signature in cursive for them incidentals
 Then we got [bad word] up off that Ace listening to [bad word]  I came a long way from that place where niggas can't wait to get you
And now you copped your favorite mag and I'm in the latest issue
And all the [bad word]  I'll [bad word] back, they steadily claiming they miss you
 And it's a shame when I get the low-fade
 Have all these women feeling like the fourth grade
 [bad word] on a Youngen, 'cos they know I'm so paid
Once I get the digits consider me so laid
 And none of this [bad word] is fiction cos really I don't play
I changed up my old ways, to kill 'em like OJ
Remind them of a young Mike, fresh J's and a gold chain
I stay tailored like politicians, but [bad word] like I'm out on bond
 Women catching feelings trying to be my first son mom
 But I'm catching millions tying to be the first one on
 And my CD, do you feel me, if [bad word]  come on
IE [bad word]  I'm a IE [bad word]  Went from Colton High School to the Widescreen [bad word] Couldn't walk in my shoes or jog by me [bad word] Since I play by [bad word] I acquired these figures
Now a [bad word] got enough to supersize, ride with him
 No surprise, all these Benjamins inside my denim
Couldn't be the [bad word] sitting on the sideline benching
Open minds will be the ones to oblige my vision
 Televise my mission, on channel 5, see me in the news
They monitor my every move, wanna see me lose
Hear the [bad word] I spit like "what the [bad word] has gotten into you?"
I got 'em tuned in like a Jay-Z interview