[Chorus: Apocalipps]
Know your role, everybody's got a part to play
Know your role, pick yours and you could start today
Know your role, before you front your character gotta fit
Know your role, just be for real and stop actin this shit
Know your role, believe me, even tough guys get hit
Know your role, if you're a thug you better study your script
Know your role, you're only thorough when the camera's on
Know your role, you's a corn, stop tryin to perform

[Apocalipps]
Yo, i'm a bastard, recognize one when you see one
Niggas heard my album, killed they moms and pops just to be one
It's fucked up, cause you could get your eardrums busted
You listen to a lot of rap and you can suffer concussions
And as you enter coma cause you got beat up by the bullshit
Like the rapper who killed five niggas with one bullet
It's all bullshit, and once they spit a bar you can smell it
Like that key of dope you got, where the fuck you gonna sell it
How you back it up, where ya chemist? No you don't cook it
Niggas be straight from farm county but they say they from Brooklyn
And you fake ballers kill me with your ice, but i'm colder
Ice this and ice that, but Jet Jacob's don't know ya
Prison ain't fun, don't say you been there when you wasn't
The only time you went to jail is when you visit your cousins
Your fake image won't sell, the real know you ain't hot
Yo, i ain't gotta lie, shit, i tell your ass what i got
I got a thousand rhymes, 800 lines of pure venom
Green like slime, nasty (???)
And niggas know me, i ain't never have a lex or a beatle
I had a mountainbike and i used that shit to chase bees?
Yo, i never copped a key, i carry cracks in my ass
I go uptown and do my thing and cop a ounce and a half
I got a fam which consists no brothers, two sisters
Got kicked out of kindergarten, grabbed my dick in a picture
I got a ugly broad, but i love her, cause she don't lie
I got an attitude when i got (denied?) (??)
I got beef, normal shit, nothing you can't revent
I'm not a dummy, but i got what you call common sense
I got a wild clique that rock coke rap
The art of war math that kick the (?) fast and bring the drama to your soft ass
I got sumthin else but i ain't gonna say it
And i know my role, know your's, now play it

[Chorus]

[Apocalipps]
Ay yo, i'm here to make a dollar outta penny
But i got a weed habit, i love pussy and i'm addicted to (?)
I got a gun fetish, man, just pass me a glock and your ass'll be hoppin
And please don't ask me 'what's poppin?'
Cause that's a stupid question, easy answer it's the smith & wesson
But i ain't talkin bout the cocoa brothers, it's the smith & wesson that can smoke your brothers
El loco, motherfucker, your games is ass
I rock a green bandana, cause i bang for cash
Ya slang is trash, i got big things that blast
And i'm (?) to flip back that big thing (as?) (fast?)
You can't see me in this rap shit, that's a reality
My pen is arrogant, it got its own personality
Cause it can talk, think, drink and smoke haze
And everytime it write a ill bar (he?) shit on the page
Pockets is (plush?), lyrically i stop and i bust
Shots will literally drop the fuckin top of your trunk
I'm tryin to spit until you're all gone
I'm hotter than the nigga standin on the sun with a (shirt/shield?) and a pair of long john
Cheerleaders get your pom-poms and scream 'go lips'
I'm like a nigga without a whip, nothing to flow with, nothing to ride (home?)
And i'm nothin to drive crazy, and i rap like a single father raisin five babies
Smell me, if not (you?) put some dicks on your chest
Cause i can aim with my revolver, all six in your chest

[Chorus]