paroles de chanson People Like Myself - Timbland and Magoo
(Feat.
Static
(Playa))
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
me
be
like
whoa
and
find
me
somewhere
else
to
go
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
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
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
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?
1 Intro
2 Beat Club
3 Considerate Brotha
4 Mr. Richards
5 In Time
6 Baby Bubba
7 Love Me
8 Roll Out
9 Serious
10 Voice Mail
11 People Like Myself
12 Indian Carpet
13 It's Your Night
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