The Grunge (prod. Atmosphere)

I write my lyrics in my underwear

cuz I'm young and single, hah, I just don't care

and I don't cook that often, I'm not the best

but I'll give it try, so I don't starve to death

every now and then, check that, a bad habit

I get room service, Jimmy Johns' royalty service

Always giving tip, with that cursive printed script

I pay them good like some pay call girls to strip

Poker, only the good looking do politics, but

I'd rather withdraw to my House of Cards on Netflix

Binge watching over drinking, party for one please

I'm growing my beard out...that's what I call it

 

Half-baked, but I'm not high, I can't touch the sky

I come up to the block looking extra shy

Can you see my eyes?

I can't tell my morning from my nights.

Do I exercise, psh, I grew an extra size

I used to be something I can't quite remember

Used to be, my anthem, counting back Decembers

Nostalgia is ruthless when laziness turns on

The past looks so pretty like my present fan fiction

 

Still fitting in my chinos, hoping to age like Vino

The youth die young, but I invested on living retro

Oh where art though, my charming charisma?

My Secretariat, I rode your coattails like Obama.

I'm only 20 and I'm already talking about my heydays

A serious mayday for a future slave life to the paydays

Now college rules, better spend wisely those four years

Bad habits could stick forever, like a hardened tear

So get off your bum, James, it's you're time to lose

but the bum life chose me, I didn't have time to choose

 

You think I wanted this? Sleeping in on a Thursday?

My confidence so low, I slink away on my birthday?

Depression crushed the old me, Clark Kent passed away

now I'm a upside-down me, a Bizarro Freaky Friday

So hey chick, please excuse my appearance,

I'm a little shabby, but I'm an ace with the parents

They've lived long enough to see the good and the bad

So they have hopes for the ugly, maybe time can fix that

 

I just need a second chance, a second wind

A second and some minutes to shed off some extra skin

They say that real beauty comes from what's inside

I guess I can say the same about my abs on the inside

Gosh darn it, get back on that treadmill

Run, runaway from the days you'll have to pay the bills

Heave and ho, row for them heathen hoes

or I'll see you when you're 40, with your virgin woes

 

A wife and some kids, herro Mr. Smith

Just Dream On, yeah, Dream on to that myth

of American Schemes, work hard and you'll achieve

Food on the table, but pass the money please

So I've skipped two weeks of class, and every moment I spend

Outside my classroom gets me closer to my weekend

to my weeks end, since I'm weak and

God blessed my cards, but I pretend to have a weak hand

 

Yeah, that's my grunge life, I deserve it all

Not the fame and the money, but the pain it takes to fall

You get what you take from life, but I'm not into hand outs

Not even into hard work, so curse me with your bad mouth

If anything, I'm friends with the cousin of death

since sleeping on the streets would even be a success

So I just pray God, pick up my two feet

Lazy losers like me won't be buried even two feet.

So I just pray God, pick up my two feet

Give me the strength to make it past even just these two weeks