Lyrics:

[Intro: Crystal Renee]
Is it me? Is it you boy? x3
Is it really me?
Cyhi! Yea!

[Verse 1: Cyhi The Prynce]
Is it me or do these rappers sound like Al Capone?
If everybody serving bricks then who bagging zones?
How can you rap about it on a song
But get 25 years for rapping about it on the phone?
Is it me or is these niggas telling stories 'Ye? (HUH)
I done seen more D then where Berry Gordy stay
Everyday I see a nigga snitch up on 40
These dudes ain't gangstas, the just they just actors, Sidney Poitier
Don't get me wrong my nigga, I endorse the streets
But, you won't support your kids but go support the freaks
Last night, at the club, you blew like a quarter ki
But when the feds come, you can barely pay your lawyer fees?
Is it me or do these niggas got the game backwards, huh?
It's hard to explain rappers
We get money to buy the chain that we slave after
But we mentally still a slave to that same master

[Hook: Crystal Renee]
Oh, is it me? is it me? is it me baby?
Is it me? is it me? is it me baby?
Oh, is it me? is it you boy? is it really me?

[Verse 2: Cyhi The Prynce]
Is it really me cause I ain't really feeling these new rap niggas
Pardon my soliloquies
But honesty is what we really need
When a crew full of cap peelers, but that wasn't really me
I used to trap nigga with them nicks like I'm Willis Reed
Dealing weed opened a lot of doors for me, chivalry
Plus you get less time getting caught with this than with a ki
In the streets it's hard for you to sleep like on Christmas Eve
But silly me for ever thinking you was really G
All these rappers selling birds, I swear this shit is killing me
They have shackles on your wrist all the way down where your achilles be
And ya'll still listen to it, is it me?

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Tate Dumonde]
Most of your favorite rappers never shit
It's clearly evident, the flow that I'm giving them heads heaven-sent
Life could be as sour as pickles but you got to relish it
And the lyrics that I spit is what I'm living
And you embellish it
Pay attention, nigga never had a pot to piss in
Bragging about riches, they tripping, that's why I rarely listen
Nigga you ain't never sold at all
Or what you copped didn't [?] so you flexed and had them serving salt
My future bright and it shining just like a bowling ball
Respect the real, so they see me and never notice ya'll
Is it me or is these niggas fake?
Don't understand it Prynce you matching with they lyrics
And I can't relate
I got partners doing dimes, it's like a bitch today
So what I spit is serious, period, yea like I menstruate
I paint pictures just like I'm selling them art
And clip niggas up with these lines, now that's a hell of a part
It's Tate!

Is it me or is these niggas telling stories 'Ye? (HUH)