Wake up, Scrooge, I'm about to take a Dickens of a dump On this lonely, homely little miserable grump I'm like the star of a Christmas tree, you're like the stump I'm not known for my heart but you're still getting Trumped You remind me of my ex-wife in a bikini, cause you disgust me Keep your TB from Tiny Timmy away from me, don't even touch me I don't shake hands, I don't make fans, I ruin rappers faster than Scottish lands Even Jay-Z knows what a pimp I am I got my name on the front of the business, man! My raps'll haunt you, make you think you're going insane You're about to get whooped by three emcee's of the ethereal plane So when the clock strikes, prepare to enter a world of Christmas pain Cause I'm out, I got my own f***ing problems, call me 2 Chainz!