The Hang Up

(Like, I listen to so much music, and they sing good And they write lyrics good And also I'm gunna try and tell them again And they're gunna come on for me) I'm fucking losing my mind Yet again Everything you do just makes me sick Bullshit you say To get attention Shit's pretentious I'm growing tired of your shit When I'm grabbing the mic what do you see? Image obsessed Go buy a motherfucking magazine Go home Die slow Nobody cares about you Go home Die slow And write a song about me You're so new school I wonder why everything you do is sick and fly Take off your shades You wanna talk about gimmicks? Look at yourself You wanna talk about gimmicks? Look at yourself When you're alone I know you're somebody else I'm the realest motherfucker in the game I see you faggots living perfect lives Selling all your bullshit angst Sold my soul So, Satan explain Where's my money, power, fame? Satan explain Where's my money, power, fame? I'm the realest motherfucker in the game So check yourself before you ever say my name --- The Hang Up - Emmure