Letra de True Religion

I know I'm not a God, that's blasphemy
Good news is I don't have to be
I would'a turned the world to a beach resort
Kick all y'all out, live happily
You see how retarded these rappers be
It's like they get off the short bus after three
Get Instagram, take pics with guns, snitch on yourself, you rich athlete
No snitchagram, cause I'm different fam
No Twitter Cham, I don't need a mention
They always told me that money talks, so that's who I need to pay me attention
Young don, never went to prom
Genius kid that wouldn't leave detention
When the teacher said that I'd never blow
I said don't count my pockets til you see my pension
I was plotting moves, I was carving scriptures into the desk
That was middle school so track down the desk and figure out the rest
I must confess I see you but I am not impressed
I see a lot of side-talking cats that ain't talking when they see me in flesh
Cat caught ya tongue then cough up a lung
Just stick out ya hands and then hold your breath
If I want opinions ill ask for that
Just stay in your boundaries don't overstep
Back on the porch we sat on the steps
Where we all would argue about whose the best
And now I sit behind suicides with the A/C on like I'm fresh to death
They ain't stars, these rappers good for like 8 bars
Rappers looking like 8 balls, get in them pocket then take all
These activists ain't active to me
Ain't standing up for your fake cause
Most of y'all as suspect to me as a pastor that just bought 8 cars
The mixtape God you mixtape frauds
Make sure you're hearing this carefully
Even if you know that we was cool before
You ain't got to come and give daps to me
It'll let them know they don't have to be
The clown next to clowns cause that's ratchety
You could wrap the model and own the masons
Wouldn't give a damn bout your fashion G
You don't own the brand, you just clone the man
That you saw before you with it on his hand
You a grown man?
Why a grown man staring at the logo written on some pants?
You ain't made it man, you couldn't make the band
I don't pay for likes, I don't pay for fans
Won't buy your music cause you're popular
Cause you're acting like you're moving major grams
I say you're not, I don't believe you, that's superstition
You say you're hot, we'll I know you're not
Go prove it to me, go do this mission
Go douse yourself in hot gasoline, go pump some gas without even flinching
If you make it back, then I'll play your raps
And won't tell you're family I thought you was missing
Gave you the game, I thought you would listen
Y'all got it twisted like a Jewish Christian
I taught you how to diss major labels
When they told you bow to they shoes and kiss 'em
When you tell the truth they'll say you is dissing
What's being dope got to do with stitching?
Just stay true and they'll praise you
Now that's what the hell I call True Religion