Formula

Formula, like I’m Mr. Krabs
I change and transform it up, you stuck in the past
I wear Supreme goggles to my science lab (I really do)
Yeah, it hurts to write this song, 'cause I don’t like to brag (Nah)
And now I’ve tied myself up, like a Nike Mag'
People love to criticize me for the life I’ve had (True)
They make it 'bout white and black, like I’m Michael Jack' (Aye)
I make these haters look confused, like it’s Dora asking where Swipper at (Wow,
aye), aye, aye, aye
Yeah, I’m supreme, 'cause I got it on me, now they copy that, like a
walkie-talkie
And I’m feelin' like they really want to stop me, tryna fold my paper,
like it’s origami
Wanna justify the hate, they call me cocky, and I am, 'cause your girl call me,
'Papi'
Tryna take their shot like it’s the paparazzi, I’m a fax machine up in a lot of
copies
Aye, still saying, «Who woulda thought?», like, who would of guessed it, huh?
Haven’t lifted weights in two years, but somehow, I’m always flexing, yeah
If you really want to find the answer to your question, here is where you
should look:
Want the secret to the sauce, motherfucker? Better go and find a cookbook
Yeah
When I walk up to the scene, I hear an orchestra
Now everybody telling me I don’t perform enough (I don’t perform enough)
My math teacher told me that I’d never be shit (Nah)
And now, I’m searched more than the quadratic formula (Aye)
Aye, I got the formula, (Yeah) I got the formula (Aye)
You got the sauce, but God damn, I got the formula (I got the formula), aye
People always askin', «Ben, why you record so much?» («Why you record so much?»)
I got to fry up all these rappers quick, like, order up (*call bell ringing*)