But I can't get these voices out my head (hey, Marshall, kill, kill, kill)
They're putting words in my mouth like alphabet soup
Got the most content on the continent
And constant compliments give me confidence (I'm a)
A cross of common sense and incompetence (uh)
I'm cognizant that conflict's a consequence
Of accomplishments accomplished through competition
I've conquered and conked 'em into unconsciousness
Though conscious, I conjure this King Kong and just
Call me "Kamikaze, " I'm concoctin' this (woo, my bad)
But nobody's sixteen's are touching
These motherfuckin' index fingers fuckin' the nina
