This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race (2007 VMA Remix)

[Intro: Travie McCoy]
Travie!
(Uh-oh)
Pete, thought I told you
What up, Hemmy
I see you!

[Verse 1: McCoy]
I've had the world at arm's length from the get-go
This ain't an arms race, it's Apocalypto
The industry's a target, I suggest these labels get low
On top of that, this track is cracked like burnt brillo (damn)
Consider me the beast of Easter leavened
VIP, all day, AK47
If words is weapons, then get to steppin'
My arsenal's enough to send Hell's Angels to Heaven
I'm cool as the Fonz, and deadly as Charles Bronson
I'm Gonzo, you can call me Travie S. Thompson
Go 'head, and you can choose a similar path
But don't gas yourself up like Sylvia Plath, jeez
Watch Travie take the title with ease
You want a verse, please, I wouldn't bless you if you sneezed
(Achoo!) Pardon me, I'm allergic to bullsh*t
Got a God complex with a full clip, pow!

[Pre-Chorus: Patrick Stump]
This ain't a scene, it's god-damn arms race!
This ain't a scene, it's god-damn arms race!
This ain't a scene, it's god-damn arms race!
I'm not a shoulder to cry on, but I digress

[Chorus: Stump](2x)
I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate, Oh-so intricate

[Verse 2: Kanye West]
Now I don't know what the hell this song is talkin' bout
Do you?
She said Yeah, I been spendin' all day tryin' to figure that out
You too?
The arms race made 'em raise they arm and race straight to the top
Who knew? (who knew?)
Right now they got that number one spot, do you want that? (want that?)
Me too
One thing I gotta call out, boy, take a look at Fall Out Boy
Since they ain't black, when they get money, they don't ball out, boy
They just buy tight jeans till their nuts hang all out, boy
They figure 'Ye dress tight so we gonna dress tighter
He dress white so we gone dress whiter
So in spite of anything you might've
Seen or heard, this scene occurred, word

[Hook]

[Lupe Fiasco]
There's an arms race, like I'm runnin' on my hands
A dance marathon on my napalms, and
Drop mine's first so that they bombs can't
And Glocks, lasers, missiles, beat rocks, paper, scissors
I built mine's big, better build yours bigger
Built mine's quick so I could kill yours quicker
The number one supplier, the world's largest equipper
The second smallest dier, best non-coexister
I pledge allegiance to gasoline and bulletproof limousines
And leans on the property of the poor
And every night, I pray to the Lords Of War
Every man and mac eleven
That all good child rebel soldiers go to AK-47 heaven
And a landmine in every playground that they step in
And you took the footage from the camera on the tips
Of our bullets, and record like former Darfur [push it]

[Hook]

[Lil Wayne]
Yeah, it's Weezy, baby!
I am your arms dealer, I'm more like an armed dealer
Liter-rally, really, I don't get this song neither
But I'mma figure it out like a palm reader
And, since I be on TV, I turn it on to see me!
Hey, I'm so cool, even I wanna be me
That was totally off the subject
But for me, every song is like pus*y so f*ck it
Like Fresh, you dug it (you dug it, you dug it)