Beep!
Deuce:
Hello?
Record Label:
Yes, hello, Aron, Deuce, yo uthere?
Deuce:
Hey yeah! What's up!
Record Label:
So a little birdie tells me you're working on a new record, is that true?
Deuce:
B-Birdy, yeah that's tr-
Record Label:
Wtf are you thinking! ?
(Help Me plays fades in, in the background)
Deuce:
Uhhh... I'm very busy I'm doin' shit you know?
Record Label:
Wtf is goin' on through your brain? We're big, we're a fucking major
Label! You ain't gonna be startin' your own band!
(Arguing)
Record Label:
I'm gonna trash that record! No radio! You ain't not comin' out without my
Permission! Imma burry you boy, Imma burry you!
(Song starts)
(Chrous)
Help me I ain't got no brains,
Help me I can't feel no pain,
Help me I can't stand the rain,
Help me before I drift away!
Help me I ain't got no brains,
Help me I can't feel no pain,
Help me I can't stand the rain,
Help me before I drift away!
[Verse:]
I'm the George Bush of this rap shit,
You can tell Randy Jackson to kiss my black ass,
I'm the white Obama bitch,
You could judge this when I flip middle finger up a little while I quit,
I'm sick of these people tryin' to tell me what I got,
Like it's down syndrome make you want to load a clip and,
Put 'em around in them, make 'em drown in with,
These other rap stars are like clowns it's sick,
Like Monica Lewinsky sucking on a 6 inch toothpick bitch,
Just got her boobs in so she can do it do it
Make a new c***. While these kids are downloading and they're saying profound shit,
I ain't going down with my hand on my dick,
While the next world trade center blows up quick,
Hold up I think you need another doughnut Mr. Officer,
Everybody go nuts!
(Chorus 2X)
[Verse 2:]
Look what I've become,
This place I've begun,
Started as The One and still don't give a fuck,
These bitches gettin' love,
No more Grenade a' Dove,
You 30 rappers *blech*,
You still ain't gotta buzz,
You can dream, you can dream but you gonna suck,
I got the voice and the looks baby turn it up,
I don't need mtv when I sell this much,
I'd rather be on Carson Daily than Oprah, son,
Imma be better than them,
I'm a veteran, kid,
I came to get these kids offa medicine bitch,
So who's better than him,
I'mma ruin that bitch,
I told you once now I'mma tell you again,
At least fight back, pussy,
Give me a challenge,
I'm the boss motherfucker you don't want no static,
B-O-S-S, Deuce is back bitch,
Yo Truth (what's up),
Pass the automatic!
(Chorus 2X)
[Verse 3:]
Yeah!
These labels want to put me away for good,
They wanna keep me in the hood,
But I keep swinging right back like you know I should,
Making history in the books,
You suck,
There's no buts,
The whole music industry can lick my nuts,
Motherfucker I ain't got no love for some fake ass wannabe Donald Trump!
[Outro:]
Record Label:
Deuce can suck my fucking contract! You do what I say, I ain't making you
Famous! You're not fucking bitches without my permission!
(Chorus 2X)
Deuce:
Uh huh, uh huh!
Yeah I ain't even gotta fucking try!
You know why?
Cause I sound good Whenever I talk, whenever I spit, whenever I sing,
Bitch.
I'm the white Obama bitch!
Hey Yuma, let's get the fuck outta here!
