I hate my life Well I hate my job, all of my rich friends I hate everyone to the bitter end Nothing turns out right, there's no end in sight So sick of the hobos Always beggin' for change I don't like how I gotta work And they just sit around and get

Gotta work me out, make it real Better lock this down, better box it up Gotta make it count, stuck on a feeling Just can't stop, once ain't enough Ella me tiene pegao Stuck on a feeling Gotta make it count, stuck on a feeling Quisiera besarla (mirala) No

Girl you've gotta slow it down I'm not tryna fall for you I can't give it all to you Oh the more that I tell her I'm not staying over Oh the more that I try to convince her this won't work The faster she takes off her clothes Even though I want to You've

Whippin' Excursion I've gotta pick up that person In the trap house, whipping that work and You're not a gangster, you're just an internet version Whippin' that wurzel You know me, I've got the littlest circle Mrs in the crib, you know I'm keeping that

Comfortable here I feel comfortable here Yo, I'm comfortable doing work in the studio I'm comfortable giving fans an unruly show Even if I gotta take a voyage like Coolio To rocket I'm with it but outside that shit is bootyhole No interviews with Tech

We gotta install microwave ovens Custom kitchen deliveries We gotta move these refrigerators We gotta move these color TV's You play the guitar on the MTV That ain't workin' that's the way you do it Money for nothin' and your chicks for free Money for

From a past life In the long time I was picking up a suit from the dry cleaners Which was standard for me Thursday, 12:30, I gotta pretty solid routine these days I don't know it just works for me Anyway, I was leaving I was getting in my car And I went

'Cause ain't nobody takin' my baby I don't care about an argument I'll still be here tomorrow I gotta room up in the city, we can play finish the bottle I'll pour you up, we'll work on us I wanna be clear, I'm stayin' right here Your heart weighs a ton

I guess I'm on my... on my Don shit Somebody gotta do it Look, no more interviews I'm not talking about this on a song, feature or interlude Reporting live from Hawaii with my girl I brought sand to the beach Working on vacay in the booth, sand on my

But it don't work like that You just gotta watch it fly Stand there on the side lines Go on and swallow your pride You know it's gonna be alright Wish it well and close your eyes With a kiss goodbye It's all that you want back When you lose somethin'