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It is insulting |
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'Cause I can't rap for my job, job, job, job, job |
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I'd quit this bullshit |
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But I can't live like a slob, slob, slob, slob, slob |
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The way I want to baby |
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Swimming in hip-hop-hip-hop-hip |
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I want to sing for you and show you how I rock |
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My situation's kinda dire |
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Because I'm one of the livest rhymers |
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That's also a nine-to-fiver |
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(I gotta wait until nighttime) |
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To rhyme in ciphers |
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My supervisor's always asking why my eyes are tired |
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I thank God I'm not a firefighter |
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'Cause every morning I drink coffee |
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'Til I'm nice and wired |
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It keeps me up until lunchtime |
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And then I eat but the Niggeritis is unkind |
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I fell asleep at a red light one time |
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In front of middle schoolers on an afternoon bus ride |
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I'm unsigned |
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So that's how it is sometimes |
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Wishing I could punch my card with a punch line |
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Every night something's crackin' |
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From regular grungy rapping |
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To underground funk and dancing |
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I put my best foot first |
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On Monday nights with Blaque Whole Suns at the Good Hurt |
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I go to work then I rap at night |
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And so my Tuesday appetite's satisfied at Raggsta Nites |
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I've seen more rump than an ass doctor |
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On Wednesday nights with Tommy Blak at the Grasshopper |
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Or I could roll to the Lower End |
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If I can't pay the toll |
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I gotta ask No again |
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(Thursday's work day) |
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You already knowing kid |
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I'm a J.U.I.C.E. board member and a Blowedian |
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My Friday night yearning hunger |
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Is curbed with serving suckers and herbs at the Urban Underground |
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Hear the sound of a tired rapper |
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(Down the street in Chinatown at the Firecracker) |
