Chyea, Bad Man! I stay ill. I maintain. I stay real. Bad Man I’m about to get ill yo (chilllll!) Yo, yo

Zuby’s smooth, Zuby’s cool, Zuby’s fricking back at it/ Zuby’s proved Zuby rules, Zuby’s so charismatic (ha ha!)/ I’m sick I never lie I’m sort of like a rap addict/ I make moves and multiply I’m sort of like a jackrabbit (oh)/ so if you think I’m wack it’s evident that you don’t know jack/ even deaf cats are saying Zuby’s got dope tracks/ and coasting is a no no (no) heat will keep them bumping me/ rolling on the solo so I stay in decent company (chyea)/ and people keep on pumping me, equally it’s fun to me/ pushing for a cuddle but the beat is making love to me (woo!)/ cruising on the double keep it moving like a shuttle/ you can run your little bars you can’t see me with the Hubble (nah)/ I’m daily trying to dominate like ‘Pinky and the Brain’/ but the ignorant predominate the thinking in this game/ think I’m in a different genus check the sections of my brain, one of them will prove a genius but the other is insane (chyeeea!).

CHORUS

You know I got game and you know I stay ill (ill)
You know I maintain and you know I stay real (real) You’re mad cuz you’re lame and you know I got skills so chilllll! (just chilllll!)
Cuz I wanna see sights and I wanna see bills (bills) I wanna be right when I say I’ll see mils (mils)
Don’t wanna see spite I just wanna see deals so chilllll! (just chilllll!)

Check it, yo!

They call me Bad Man I bust flows and dust all suckers I don’t cuss no, but you can sick my duck fothermucker (ha ha!)/ cuz you people want to talk like you know about the ‘Z’ about the ‘U’ about the ‘B’ what you know about me?/ you can sit there on the internet and tap away all day/ behind a screen name but give me dap in the hallway/ mean it from the heart? You can say it to my face/ you’ve got a head start I’m ‘bout to beat you in the human race (chyeeea!)/ lead converts to bars I’m getting better every hit/ A to Z of future stars catch me at letter twenty-six (that’s me!)/ I only know the present but I feel a premonition/ succeeding in this mission with my verbal composition/ no time for superstition catch me running under ladders, spilling salt and breaking glasses while I’m making a toast (uh uh)/ cuz nothing shatters visions so it doesn’t really matter if I break a couple mirrors while I’m making this boast...

CHORUS

Yo I’m just trying to be a millionaire man, ha ha, check it.

I tried to ask the people and then I phoned a friend/ so now it’s 50/50 and I’ve got to apprehend/ how can I be a millionaire without placing a bet and giving everything I’ve got to verses racing through my head?/ they come to me sporadical my thinking semi-radical combine them with the music the result is semi-radical (oh yeah!)/ flow never mechanical actually I’m like an animal/ eat hip hop for breakfast spit the wackness out like Hannibal/ I’ll give my two cents on anybody trying to rattle me and tie up loose ends like the rabbit-hole analogy/ don’t want to be a faker (what?)/ you cats are life haters, the type that cuss your mothers out and fart in elevators (ha ha!)/ me I never stutter keep it simple bread and butter don’t compare to no other cuz I’m Zuby not another (chyeeea!)/ till I reach the heaven phase I’m going to teach like 7th grade, Zuby’s staying strong for years you cats are weak [week] like seven days (woo!)

CHORUS

(chyeeea!) It’s the Bad Man (chyeeea!), it’s the Bad Man (chyeeea!) It’s the Bad Man (chyeeea!), it’s the Bad Man (chyeeea!) It’s the Bad Man (chyeeea!), it’s the Bad Man, so chilllll! (ha ha ha) Homie chilllll!