The race is over and I won, these are not contradictory facts.
All that's left now is victory laps,
And I have no intention of slowing the pace,
So unless you're a sucka, you won't be showin' your face.
And guess what else, I don't want to shake hands
Or make friends or make amends, so don't make plans,
'Cause not only not can you ride on my coat tails,
I wouldn't even let ya clean the dirt out of my toenails.
I consider your style to be garden variety,
And you can't go around actin' hard in society.
It's only gonna lead to frustration, more depression,
And vague illusions over a minor key chord progression.
So continue the chase by all means,
But ya might want to think about what it is you're chasin'.
'Cause if your foes is your own tail and ya try to match his wit,
It may be like pickin' up dimes with a catcher's mit.
