Hey yo, Waxman, what up, bruh?
It's your boy.
I was down in Vegas last night at this party,
man.
I was hanging out with 50 Cent's cousin's DJ's nephew.
Anyway,
he said he was going to hook you up,
man.
I gave him your number.
I'm listening to VIP,
chill with Nicole Richie and them.
But I holla at your boy, man.
One, two.
Yo,
turn down your lights.
You're letting your true colors show.
Yeah.
Turn down your lights.
Cause you're letting
all my suspicious glow.
I'm a liar, I can't see.
I do my own thing.
I hold my own strings.
I see your number sometimes when my phone
rings.
I used to answer it, now I hit ignore.
No more time for the folklore in your fake
stories that you make up off the cuff.
And it used to be that I couldn't wait to call
you bluff.
But now I use my time in wiser ways.
It's inefficient.
Cause you've got lies
for days and everything I've done,
you've done what better.
But you never do anything
cool when we're together.
Did a stripper in Toronto right after you won the lotto.
Then
you did a model with the playboy grotto.
Let me make it more claro.
We are done.
We ain't
friends.
We ain't buddies.
We ain't pals.
We ain't chums.
You're the boy who cried wolf.
I'm the * off shepherd.
I ain't trying to be booed.
I'm just looking at the front of the lens.
Turn down your lights.
You're letting your true colors show.
Yeah.
Turn down your lights.
Cause you're letting all my suspicious glow.
I'm a liar, I can't see.
Man, you need to simmer down.
Turn your dimmer down.
Trying to toot your own horn like you're Clifford Brown.
Slung up in the brown.
You since you was a youth.
Your poker face sucks, man.
Give it up, man.
Tell the truth.
I'm a need proof.
In the form of a viddy.
Oh,
next time you say you roll with Diddy
at the hottest club in New York City.
Especially when the same night my boys let he saw you up at Jiffy.
Lube up in Deanmore getting your oil changed.
Told him you was going to the Orioles game.
And as the years go by, it's more of the same.
And everybody starts ignoring all your
stories and claims.
And then you wonder why you're pretty much friendless.
It's because you don't understand what a friend is.
You see,
a friend ain't something you can often replace.
And when you lie to him,
you might as well put him in the face.
So turn down your lights.
You're letting your true colors show.
Yeah,
turn down your lights.
You're letting off a suspicious glow.
I'm a liar, I can't see.
Get out of my face, you imbecile.
Big wax.
Full of nonsense.
Ayo, life's too short to waste your time.
So if you got a friend that's sort of like mine,
gotta cut their ass off and leave them behind and just
bask in the glory of the rhythm and rhyme and just dance.
Turn it up, you gotta throw up your hands.
Turn it up, don't be fooled by the stance.
Gotta turn it up, cars and jeeps and the fans.
Gotta turn it up, just dance.
Turn it up, you gotta throw up your hands.
Turn it up, don't be fooled by the stance.
Gotta turn it up, cars and jeeps and the fans.
Gotta turn it up, just dance.
What's going on?
Ayo,
wax man,
how come you ain't never call me back,
man?
I thought we was tight.
I was gonna tell my boy over at Def Jam about your music,
man,
but I guess not now,
bro.
Ayo, turn down your lights.
You're letting your true colors show.
Yeah,
turn down your lights.
You're telling how unsuspicious glow.
I'm lying, I can't see.