Lyrics
Grown Little Kids
V1
I'm sick of getting the business, from idiots,
I'm sick of wakin up sicker like i was incubus,
I'm sick of lickin my chops at the thought of my top spot,
keeping my props in my pocket till i can pop off,
but everybody seems to be a laz-e-boy baby,
crazy i can't pick up all the slack on the daily,
i work when I'm sick, they want me to get worse,
am i jerk or a prick, I'm not ending in this hearse,
f*** y'all, i didn't wanna say it but, f*** y'all,
you don't know my brain is beautiful i got a super flow,
like superman pissin I'm on a mission to lose it yo,
I'm on a mission to show that the show must go on,
whether bickerin pricks keep on stickin ur tits in kitchen, no,
body seems to be able to do nothin like me, so,
it don't f*** in what i do to these,
H
idiots morons grown little kids, and,
dummies i think its f*** in funny you know jack,
sh** about sh** and thats sh** ty for your kids,
but you did it to yourself, nothin under yo lid
idiots morons grown little kids, and,
dummies i think its f*** in funny you know jack,
sh** about sh** and thats sh** ty for your kids,
but you did it to yourself, nothin under yo lid
V2
here i am, again, wit my pen, in hand,
steady aim wit my mic I am the man,
and, i can't pretend i don't bend backwards,
looking at the world upside down that hurts,
still i see more than the three eyed whore,
on my back porch, kill her n ill feel no remorse,
here i am, again, wit a knife, in my hand,
n I'm feelin like i gotta peel your skin back,
other words absurd i had to make a sick track,
i heard ur a couple a corns short of a turd,
n u aint never gonna get ur wit back,
cuz u never had it to begin with, what is this,
I'm literally sick of this ridiculous business,
wickedness,
in my soul right now i aint tryna be the wittiest,
I'm jus coughing up n pukin on idiots,
this is wicked... where the hell did you write this -- A fast food chicken place?