People like myself lyrics

Artist  : Timbaland 
Song : People like myself
 
[chorus: timbaland]
People like myself, only hang with self cause
that’s the way to go
I can’t go outside without findin some new
kinfolks
People on my left, people on my right, all in my
earhole
Make be like whoa and find me somewhere else to
go

[repeat chorus]

[magoo]
It’s mag from your tv screen, buzzin off the jim
beam
But the mag y’all think y’all know ain’t what I
seem
I’m a low-down freak from seapeak(? )
See them high school mates, I see ’em and don’t
speak
All y’all wanna talk like we used to hang
Cause I’m doin my thang, now you wanna bask in my
fame
That’s why I stay out the club, be in the crib
Smokin a dub, countin my cash, over the phone
And I’m sellin cell phones, all with chips
My nine to bloods, my glock to crips, who want
war? 
You and your boys can bring the noise
But i’ma bring hand grenades, now you’re laid!
Pull out my dick, piss on your bitch-ass
Sit on your face, now you gotta kiss ass
Who fiend for fame life belong to your fans
And haters and thugs that wanna end your
lifespan

[chorus]

[timbaland]
Uhh, uhh, uhh - since I got bigger (bigger)
I’m over here and y’all recite tim’s my nigga
(nigga)
Like I just figure (figure)
And my tracks didn’t help niggaz
So for rememdy I pound niggaz
Like I keep ’em in dj’s for that new jigga
Like them forty-two girbauds
I pocket every demo, like timbaland - he’s that
next nigga
Confirmed by people that she can blow
Convinced booker t she’s the next to go
Now I’m checkin every joint and every unit I
sold
Once I’m deep in the dough, I’m deep with a crew
In the 80’s y’all screamed like the movie is
through
Y’all screamin this is "nutty professor:
part ii"
To "eyes wide shut" to whoever I
choose
I can appreciate a kidman to a, tom cruise
To a, fast food, I’m strictly drive-through
The money I gave dudes I basically raised fools

[chorus]

[magoo]
Even the phone spit it, God know what I’m
thinkin
I’m drinkin and smokin and stressin, go to church
for confession
Down on my knees, beggin to god, show me the
path
My label is jerkin me workin me so the devil can
lurk in me
Sick of niggaz bitchin, wishin I’d fail
Tell ’em mag be the rap effin kenan and kel
I’m spittin the version of verses curses over the
churches
Rappin mo’ iller than thriller manila and give
you salmonella

[timbaland]
Stop, the press!
Bitch, you can’t afford that dress, you can’t
afford that hairdo
I don’t want your sex, here take your fast food
"tim you’re dead wrong, tim you’re dead
rude!"
Hey girl, I don’t even know you
"timbaland we’re your first cousin marion
sue"
My momma never ever mentioned you
My momma also told me to watch them savage boos,
what? 

[chorus: sung by static - repeat 2x]