[Verse 1: Crocker]
That boy go bananas, throws fingers at cameras
Is too open when he paints his picture up on a canvas
Likes to reference G-d and then follow with dammit
Has a problem with is heritage, continually trash it
Did a track, with a Muslim, claimed our country was fascist
In the vid, he made salat, the hell's with that shit?
Bet he's a sympathizer, or a terrorist worst
Started singin' "Kill Whitey" last show that they worked
Stood up, on that stage, with that arrogant smirk/ I'm sure he's insecure, and a terrible jerk
Keeps mixed company, blacks, Jews, and the like
Like deep down inside, he's ashamed that he's white
Saw him in the Jailbirds, spent a couple of nights
Bet his mother is disgusted, keeps him out of her sight
Bet when she speaks with her friends, never speaks on his life
Pretends like he isn't there, just to save her the spite
[Hook: Crocker]
Don't pay him attention, he don't know who he is
Little insecure prick, pretend he flow and he spit/
Boy wanna be black, tries to show that he is
Crock? Name suits, he should know that he's shit
[Verse 2: Crocker]
Heard his open mic failed, as did his hometown showcase
Never made money, so they showed where the door breaked
Heard that DJ backed him, one that spins at the club
That's controversy filled and but that's welcoming is
Heard his ole lady left him, and he shattered to pieces
That's what they both get, both slandering Jesus
Talks about suicide as if he's screaming to see us
Like look at me, look at me, he's either sick or defeatist
Heard his real label split, acts left in the process
So, he started a new one, like this one will progress
Don't make real music, and he sucks at the fake shit
And he'll never have a song on a radio playlist
His album's never dropping, been coming for two years
That single came and went, everybody like who cares
And if it does drop, hell, I'm sure it'll flop
Who you know would buy a record from a rapper named Crock?
[Hook: Crocker]
Don't pay him attention, he don't know who he is
Little insecure prick, pretend he flow and he spit
Boy wanna be black, tries to show that he is
Crock? Name suits, he should know that he's shit
[Verse 3: Crocker]
Yeah he made salat and I back it completely
Don't like it, don't care, give a fuck how you see me
This country isn't fascist, hell look at the brackets
Of taxes between politicians and the national average
Far as being white, shit, it is what it is
But I won't live a life being proud of the shit
Far as my crew goes, those people are family
Keep 'em out of your mouth, don't misunderstand me
The jail shit was dumb shit, really nothing of mention
But outta that came Bandit and divine intervention
Mom's proud, in her way, she just hates that I'm broke
Far as the shows, thanks for the five you paid at the door
Sparkle City's still up, hell Scotty's behind me
Lovelorn's growing wings and we're working on flying
Buy it or your don't, but peep the progress to here
Shit, I hate my name to and Catharsis is here
[Hook: Crocker]
Don't pay him attention, he don't know who he is
Little insecure prick, pretend he flow and he spit
Boy wanna be black, tries to show that he is
Crock? Name suits, he should know that he's shit
