| Yeah
|
| Bring the drums in
|
| Uh, yeah
|
| A 1−2, yeah
|
| Yeah, what the fuck am I supposed to do?
|
| Yeah, supposed to do
|
| Check it out, uh
|
| Listen
|
| I’m in my flat flat broke, last smoke
|
| The voice in the back of my mind sighs have hope
|
| I have rope, I could end it all feelin' that
|
| Local rapper found hanging from a ceiling fan
|
| That would be the easy way out though
|
| But what would that amount to apart from a outro?
|
| It’s not what I’m about yo, I’m never for shortcuts
|
| And taking life is never right, that’s something the lord does
|
| Sortin' through these past dues, my choices led to bad moves
|
| No soap in the bathroom, I don’t want to hustle but I have to
|
| Back to the drawing board
|
| Zip locks stock up on what the clients want
|
| I am taught but I won’t listen
|
| Self-destructive sort of like I wanna fail
|
| But what I want to feel isn’t what moves me
|
| Why I grab a pen and stick the tip to this loose-leaf
|
| So what the fuck are we supposed to do?
|
| What the fuck are we supposed to do?
|
| Don’t even have a rope to hold on to
|
| So what the fuck are we supposed to do? |
| Come on
|
| No way out for us to make that move
|
| So what the fuck are we supposed to do?
|
| What the fuck are we supposed to do?
|
| Tell me what are we supposed to do?
|
| While these motherfuckers pop bottles
|
| I’m taking pop bottles back into the store so I can get some Top Ramen
|
| What the fuck they know about that rock-bottom?
|
| Everyone I know is feeling down-trodden
|
| Everyone I know has thought about robbin'
|
| I’m not talkin' 'bout a stick up, uh
|
| I’m talkin' liftin' up that drawer before that afternoon pick-up
|
| Shattering that tax bracket you sick of
|
| On some get up, get out and get some this shit, come on
|
| The mind wanders when you’re poverty-stricken
|
| And only hope you’re holding on to is a lottery ticket
|
| Bills piling up so don’t see you smiling much
|
| Start thinking of some violent stuff
|
| Like umm, why the fuck don’t I just get a pint of some rum
|
| A nine and tuck it between my teeth and say good-bye I’m done?
|
| Economy is down and suicides are up
|
| We rather die by a gun than let this world be the death of us
|
| This world’ll fuck you and expect you just to smile through it
|
| Waking up is a reminder thinking why do it?
|
| They wonder why these motherfuckers snap
|
| One minute a family man until he’s walking in that plant
|
| And he’s thinking, «Where the fuck’s my overtime?»
|
| Last resorts become solutions to a sober mind
|
| An empty bottle list of fucking demands like
|
| «Hey Joe, where you going with that gun in your hand?»
|
| Yeah, feeling like there’s one way out of this hole
|
| Feel the weight of the world, your hate feeling out of control
|
| Either I’mma see the light or the light’ll burn out
|
| No mistake though it’s never too late to turn around
|
| Turnin' out to be a catch 2−2
|
| Not a stretch for me to fetch the 2−2
|
| I know that’s a bit theatrical
|
| But this poison is pungent, it’s just so suspect
|
| How much I’ve been avoiding the subject |