Lyrics:
can't be bothered
To be counted by another
Man who shake hands like a friend
behind white picket fences
Oh yes Sir we're drewling
Because authoritary
treating me wrong
But bumping my songs
Raping out they lungs
Gave my last to these niggas and got played by some bums
Last little nigga got hit with this
and I'm Swerving
(Skrrr)
Real nigga ridin by
And if you ain't solid don't tell Me you down to ride
Took his last breathe that shit Had me traumatized
My
On my mother I ain't playing hang a Nigga by his dreads
Ain't shooting out of shit we walking Down tapping heads
I don't care if he was cripping we gon
Meanwhile, everything's peachy for them bums
They be senile, always reaching for the one
Thing that they can use to hurt your character
So you just take abuse,
a nigga that is disappointed by his mother
Lately been a free mind so I think i'm gonna start some trouble
I can see my matching twin, we got each other
Necks gone all twisted
Respects gone and missed it
Now
I'm not faded or jaded
But lately I've been frustrated and baited
By babies acting like I am
good, what's hood
You know what I'm about, reppin' that West Side, lookin' out the beat, bums
Got me in the mood for some G-fun Tacky faded look, I'm so
a professional bum
And you wonder why you have no friends
Oh, my dearest pond scum
Just tell me where the using ends
Don't be fooled by the batty eyes
Better go
It all seems so strange
The mutes the bums
The dogs with mange, the poor,
Doesn't anybody help themselves anymore
I guess not
Barefoot pregnant women
Hey you bum, yeah, you, move over
Get your ass off that Range over
That attitude toward the homeless is exactly what Maureen is protesting
It all seems so strange
The mutes the bums
The dogs with mange, the poor,
Doesn't anybody help themselves anymore
I guess not
Barefoot pregnant
a tower to bum
Torch, a flaming brand, a pyre blazing scourge
Heretics Clad in flames die in silence
It is no doubt the right way
The perfect way to go
It's lonesome away, from your kindred and all
By the campfire at night, where the wild dingoes call
But there's nothing so lonesome, so morbid
for this fate's in
The element of fine print I've read it and overseen
By judgmental pompous ass phonetics, the critic
I'm still the rapper for
screwing up
Torment me with lies in front of my friends
Call me a fucking bum like I'm a con man
Call me a fucking jerk like I'm a rapist
Call me
At least he loves his city
Holding court on Taylor Square proper was the man he could become
Lear's Fool is a bum now
With seven holy parcels by his
there's this friend of mine -- he's always by my side
He gives me a place to go when things get bleak
He's always there for me ... He rubs my eyes for me
anymore just wait until your dad gets home and sees what
You have done kicked out of school you've got no job you're a useless
Delinquent bum oh my god
a bum searching for eternal slack
Pride, intelligence, motivation: there was nothing that I did not lack
But then I went to see a doctor and he showed
Well, either you're closing your eyes
To a situation you do not wish to acknowledge
Or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster
Indicated by
ain't never had a fifty, you ain't had a hun'
You ain't never had a quarter ticket, lil' dirty bum
I bet I'll have ten M's when I'm thirty-somethin'
liquor on your breath
If it don't break you
It might just make you rich
You might not get there
And on the way it's a bitch
Gettin by, gettin
the bum is bound by al
When the charts are fouled
When the crowds go wild
(Wiki)
How did I land? Right in this land
Man-hat-tan
Right were you stand
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