Fuck your shiny suit
You ain’t the Kool Thing like Sonic Youth
I didn’t buy a mood ring cos that’s what they do like the Roots crew
Girls delete me from their iPhone’s quicker than U2
I ain’t the Blue Man Group
I don’t got a new dance to do
So give me all your money
Isn’t it funny how quick the mood can change
When you rhyme better but they got a Dookie Chain
And your broke as fuck
No hope or luck
I’ve had enough
And they got the nerve to be mad at us
I’m just trying to prosper
Can’t afford a whopper let alone a doctor’s visit
But Ludacris got a midget around his neck
It’s ludicrous the way it flips my head
If this was “What about Evan?” and not Bob
There’d be a different ending, somebody’s getting shot

Cos I’m broke, I’m poor
I can’t take it anymore
Can’t find a job cos I don’t wanna look
Procrastinate so much I could write a book
I know you must see how hype it looks
But I might just push myself off the edge
Cos I’m better off dead

Like John Cusack
I got my socks on in the shower
Put 2pac on for hours
Picking flowers for my funeral
Life sucks but the world is beautiful
Been to hell so much they know my usual
I’m in a cubical
I’m in the powdered water
I doubt yah oughta wanna step to me
You should just let it be
Cos I got the recipe
It’s easy as butter
It’s greasy in the gutter
Don’t leave me my lover
Who am I kidding?
Who am I fooling?
Put you to sleep now, you’re drooling
This ain’t a freestyle, I ain’t cooling
I ain’t lamping
She could grind on me but I ain’t dancing
Cos I got a pistol in my pants
I ain’t happy to see you
I’m just here to lean back
And do the rock away
Since depression’s the new craze
I’m a pimp it and get paid
Cos I liked it way before it was cool
Back when I was eating my lunch in the bathroom at school
Choking myself at night to feel the rush
Praying not to wake up

Cos I’m broke, I’m poor
I can’t take it anymore
Can’t find a job cos I don’t wanna look
Procrastinate so much I could write a book
I know you must see how hype it looks
But I might just push myself off the ledge
Cos I’m better off dead


So now I’m broker than a broke dick dog
I should be sleeping just like a log
Down to my last 9 cents
Guess my mind’s been spent
Nobody wants you when you’re pathetic
Might as well borrow your uncle’s gun and end it
High school was hell life after ain’t any different
At least back then you thought you had some wisdom
False sense of security
Your lyrics really worry me