Released: May 12, 2017

Featuring: Lil Wayne

Songwriter: Lil Wayne B.o.B

Producer: B.o.B

[Chorus: B.o.B]
Like I don't belong
I feel like I don't belong
Like I don't belong
Like a extraterrestrial
Extraterrestrial, oh
Extraterrestrial
Extraterrestrial, oh

[Verse 1: B.o.B]
Yeah, basically I'm an alien to y'all
I guess I'm, speakin' in different languages than y'all
I guess, all you know is my alias is all
I stepped into the Hall of Fame and put my frame on the wall
I'm like a Michelangelo paintin' that hangs in the vault
They gated me off, by Hendrix while he plays the guitar
Never had friends but me and Franklin was dawgs
Somewhere between insane and famous, guess my brain's a lil' off
I'm, I'm in the b-b-basement havin' d-d-dangerous typa thoughts
I pace for hours, hit the fuckin' vaporizer and cough
Kill everythin' I see and leave behind a mountain of chalk
I took the hand that I was dealt and made a house outta cards
You can't compare me to anyone, swag on Area 51
Blowin' purple crop circles, pack is loud as a intercom
Anti-gravity moon suit
Went from bein' who are you to chillin' with the who's who
Paranoid of more than story-tales in science fiction
Sleepin' with a fat burner like I'm tryna watch my figure
Wanna cut me out the picture, get some bigger scissors
I-I stop shittin' on these niggas, but I never been a quitter
Yeah, so join the B.o.B hate fest
I would say, "Fuck ya" but I practice in safe sex
Signin' off, young Jedi on the red eye
Rap god, I should have my own prayer line
Amen, Ray Bands

[Chorus: B.o.B]
Like I don't belong
I feel like I don't belong
Like I don't belong
Like a extraterrestrial
Extraterrestrial, oh
Extraterrestrial
Extraterrestrial, oh

[Verse 2: Lil Wayne]
Oh my God, it's the Martian
Stuntin' in them Son of Mars Jordans
It must be the shoes, the stars in the skies won't start 'em
Far from the norm', bitch, I'm Norman Bates awkward
But nothing's far fetched when a underdog's barkin'
But they could get checked, if I don't sign my goons forge it
I don't phone home, I phone homies
And catch you at your home with your homies, spoil a moment
Extra-extra-terrestrial, extra clips, extra bitch
Homie, I don't fear shit like exorcist your neck'll twist
Gettin' high on extra shit with extra kick to kick my ass
And after I put all bullshit to the side, I lick my hands from a Different world's Dwayne Wayne
Unexplained things goin' in my strange brain
Unidentified flyin' object Wayne's plane
'Cause I be on that Mary, I don't fuck with plain Jane
Drugs in the backpack, no room for E.T
Eyes on my kneecaps, don't look, I'm knee deep
All I do is fall back, smoke kush and keep seeds
Swallow 'em with some water, cut myself and bleed weed
Having trouble bein' human, let alone a human being
Have trouble shootin' a breeze not a M-16 (Bop)
I fear what I don't understand and that would be my own fear
And they don't understand me, I know I don't belong here
Tunechi

[Chorus: B.o.B]
Like I don't belong
I feel like I don't belong
Like I don't belong
Like a extraterrestrial
Extraterrestrial, oh
Extraterrestrial
Extraterrestrial, oh

B.o.B

Bobby Ray Simmons, Jr. has released over 21 bodies of work, that along with countless features, chart-toppers, and production-credits highlights just how hardworking this southeastern artist truly is.

His musical output began in 2007, releasing 3 projects that year, as well as the following year. Then, in 2009, B.o.B released B.o.B Vs. Bobby Ray, and was made an XXL Freshman, however he’d not even started to see success. That is, until the Bruno Mars assisted #1 single “Nothin' On You” was released – one of the many successful singles from his debut album B.o.B Presents The Adventures of Bobby Ray, which peaked at #1 on the Billboard Charts. The album also received favourable reviews and 5 Grammy nominations (one for “Airplanes, Pt 2 (feat. Eminem & Hayley Williams)” – Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals).

After this amount of success many would take a well-earned hiatus, but not B.o.B. Before 2010’s end he released his beloved mixtape No Genre. Less than a year later he released another well received mixtape, E.P.I.C. (Every Play is Crucial), which was composed of songs of the excess songs he couldn’t fit on his sophomore album, Strange Clouds.