I'm Not That Guy

Who got that style? Not you!
Somebody told me you had some kinda style
I know that shit ain't true
C'mon

Lies
Everything you said was a lie
And i won't even try
To compete with those lies, no no

You got ta, come clean
If you know what i mean
Some of y'all don't even try
Throw your hands in my eye yeah
C'mon

Oh oh yeah
Some say I'm a true player
Your on a wing and prayer
Some of y'all (adlib)

You don't know my style
Run rings around you, several thousand miles yeah
I'm wearing my crown
I'ma chase y'all outta town yeah
Come on

You don't know my steelo
Get down
All rise
C'mon

Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah aahh

Won't ya reach out
(adlib)

Yeah and I'm on fire
I'm that kinda guy yeah
Get down
Oh ohh

Say you got style?
I don't think so!
C'mon

Bossman croon in a room and i
Gotta sing like al sing-a-ronie
Treat you like my sweet tender roni
Treat you like some suck macaroni
Mm, c'mon
For leavin' me a lonely, yeah
My baby tried to fly - away
But I had to clip her wings that day
Comin' with a whole lot of lies
I'ma treat your ass like some old french fries now come on

I'm not that guy
I'm not
Been tellin' y'all some time
I'm not that guy - been tellin' your ass so long now, don't know how many time times i'm gonna tell your ass come on!