I.B.S.

Lemme tell y'all a lil story about myself

This right here is a true story, check it out though

[Verse 1]

Ulcers hurt my salary, alter my personality

Give it to you real, I can't feed my culture no fallacy

You know my attitude, arrogant, cocky rude

Eatin off papi food, used to be a stocky dude

Weighed two-twenty, wit two honies, I move monie

It's true dummy, dunny need a new tummy

I become berserk, it was no fun to work

Everyday my stomach hurt, rippin off my undershirt

The pain was no comparison, stomach started cherishin

Throwin up in public, yo fuck it, it was embarrassin

Regurgitatin, green, yellow, burgundy, Boom

But came my urgency soon, (what) the emergency room (oh)

In there, no salvage, treated like a cold savage

They said pimpin symptoms, huh, a dope addicts

There you have it, but they ain't find no heroin

Coke, crack, dope, just weed, but that's my medicine

[Chorus]

My baby mama, mama, and my grandma

Say that I'm too gordy (too gordy), word to my blue maurys

This is a true story

I got stomach pain, don't matter sun or rain

Thought that it went away, uh oh, here it come again

[Verse 2]

Never mind stuntin, dime puffin, doc spent his time frontin

He like a bad detective, he ain't find nuttin

Besides that though, I can't enjoy a movie, dinner (why is that?)

My son growin up, I'm lookin like the movie thinner

I'm thinkin suicide, do or die, sit and cry (oh)

What hurt my baby moms askin if I'm gettin high (what the fuck you talkin about?)

She gonna play me a thug, I told the lady I love

If it ain't hustlin ma, please don't relate me to drugs (at all)

I'm loosin weight though, everyday pounds and muscles

Gotta get off my ass, hit some towns and hustle

Bein sick, huh, it get sickenin you know

I was too sick to do shows, but still equipped to move O's

You know my attitude, get it how I get it

If I can shoot, I turn around (then) I'm off my pivot

And oops, I thought I had it mapped

Weight started to gain again, it was just a game my friend

Dame mane I pained again

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]

Ay yo, god body, I'm hard bodied, word mommy, vanishin

Hadda go low, the male clinic, Minnesota

I couldn't get cake, a rock in a hard place

For me, that's a odd place, I'm only here by God's grace

Like a lab rat, them tests dishonor Cam

Ultrasound, MIR, CAT scan, sonogram

Laparoscopy, inoscopy, I be stressed (I be stressed)

The prognosis, diagnosed, IBS

And that's irritable bowel child, I hadda spit it y'all

Kick to y'all, so it ain't my fault if I shit on y'all

Get it, get it, get it, get it?

[Chorus x2]