Futuristic Funk (from "XXL 2011's Freshman Class: The Mixtape")

Yeah, ha, yeah, and it goes like
Hey, hey, hey, hey, and I tell 'em, "Fuck you," if you hating
So fuck you, we making money, bitch
That's all I really got to say
I'm just gonna start rapping and shut the fuck up
Blaow

I said they acting like they better, but they never been the shit
Hows it feel to have a hundred thousand people on ya dick?
Well, it feels good, homie, you should probably try it
If you never rocked a sold out show, then keep quiet
I gets busy on a track, working double time
Tryna find a foreign pussy just to put my tongue inside
I be on the top of the charts, you just an underline
Tearing through the streets, all these hating suckers run inside
Furious, fool probably wanna come and stomp me out
Mad they got a girl, and I'm all that bitch talks about
Been getting money since I walked around my father's house
The dads be cop and search when I come and take they daughters out
Paper come in large amounts, I'm eating like I should
Surf and turf shit, sink my teeth in something good
They mad I ain't hood, nah, I came to party hard
You grilling at me, but I smile back, bitch, hardy-har

Come on down, grab your girl, maybe spin her around
Ain't no other motherfucker getting the people this wild
What you want? Some futuristic funk
Tell me what you want, a little futuristic funk
We those kids getting cheese, on some Cheetos shit
Just fucking for the night, then we leave that bitch
So what you want? Some futuristic funk
Tell me what you want, a little futuristic funk (Hey, hey)

So you probably heard I rap a ton, having fun
Never have I had a gun
Vomit when I spit like I devoured something bad for lunch
Tryna figure out the way to get me rich, I have a hunch
Like Velma up in Scooby-Doo, confusing like a Rubik's Cube
Usually don't do this, I be stupid, just a nuisance
All you seem to hear about, I'm in ya ear; Q-tip
Yeah, that's dude sick, sleeve with a few tricks
Breathe in a huge spliff, weed come in two zips
You light it, then I burn it, like a furnace when the herb hits
Like it 'cause I earn it, smoking good veggie turnips
Bitch, I'm falling from the sky like bird shit
Making movies everywhere I go, call me Ernest

Come on down, grab your girl, maybe spin her around
Ain't no other motherfucker getting the people this wild
What you want? Some futuristic funk
Tell me what you want, a little futuristic funk
We those kids getting cheese, on some Cheetos shit
Just fucking for the night, then we leave that bitch
So what you want? Some futuristic funk
Tell me what you want, a little futuristic funk, like uh

Like uh, like uh
Yo, Jerm's out there, making all this shit sound good
I'm in here talking shit
Don't be mad, motherfucker
I'm gettin, I'm gettin, I'm getting, I'm living great, you're not