Wanna tell you a story, about the way I feel
I can't stand it no more,
I'm losing out on the deal
You see the way that you hit is like I'll never heal
Just to make sure it's short and straight, I say
Get real!
You see you wanna beat me,
but can't beat me You can't beat me,
and yet you try to be
Yeah you wanna beat me,
but can't you see It's as simple as this,
and your only me is me
You try too hard,
but I don't care You try too hard,
you even wear my hair
I swear I'm a man you shouldn't even dare Cause face it boy,
you ain't got no prayer
You wanna beat me?
You wanna beat me?
Ha!
You wanna beat me?
Ha! Ha!
You wanna beat me?
You are nothing but a carbon copy Check me out,
I'm the man of your dreams You're
not even close to a Z-Rock's machine!
What, what, what, what, wanna be?
What, what, what, what, what, wanna be?
Be, be, be, be, be, wanna be
Here's a piece of advice, you better think twice
Cause what you're all doing ain't all that nice
You think you're so hot,
when you're as cold as ice
Can't stare at my face, can't look at my eyes
Are you surprised?
I'll pack your pockets now, it's you and me
And me and you better pay your price Take your bag of lies,
and get out of my life
Cause Francois is wise, and you're food to fly
George Michael says you got to have faith
Facts Michael says you got to have a face
Michael Jackson says that he is bad
Michael Francis says that we've been had
You
are nothing but a carbon copy Check me out,
I'm the man of your dreams
You're not even close to a Z-Rock's machine!
It's tough enough going round the town
With all you suckers trying to put me down
I look around and all I see are pests They're
coming straight at me from the right and the left
They look possessed,
and maybe I guess they're so impressed by me But nevertheless,
there's no way you get my eye
Cause damn you know I'm your type!
Wanna be me?
Wanna be me?
Hot!
Wanna be me?
Hot! Hot!
Wanna be me?
You are nothing but a carbon copy Check me out,
I'm the man of your dreams
You're not even close to a Z-Rock's machine!
I used to rhyme in 79,
in Apple Street,
number 69 Born in 1964,
Tommy Cash's clay in the Fabulous Four
Hell,
don't burn out the 4th of July A new form B starts to open inside
This new form B is now a young man Rapping
in front of your young black-haired head
Hot!
The man with the plan
Hot!
You are nothing but a carbon copy Check me out,
I'm the man of your dreams
You're not even close to a Z-Rock's machine!
Now y'all tell me, who's the man?
Who started these studs, man?
Who started rapping?
You're a copycat,
man,
who started this hairstyle?
You're nothing,
no,
you are nothing but a carbon copy Check me out,
I'm the man of your dreams
You're not even close to a Z-Rock's machine!