Doin' Work

I’m bout to go absurd like Amber Heard heard a slur

Bitch didn’t notice that it was her own words

She should put that bottle of vodka back into her purse

You mighta married a pirate but you didn’t have to be the curse

You’re bout to hear something new like when my boy Copern

told the world the sun don’t revolve round the Earth

What happens when the greatest verse ever birthed makes it to the ends of the earth

without ever bein heard?

Well I guess you’re bout to learn

 

It’s not a mystery why they call me the new misery

Even Stephen king couldn’t dream of these things that I scream when I defeat a beat (hobble)

See these streets only impede the peeps that are asleep or be like sheep

So if your feet aint marching to your own beat you can probably take a seat

You can never take away from me the way I take no heed cause outrage is cheap

and I don’t play unless the stakes favor me savor the flavor of being able to say whatever I may

Shout out to all who came before me that made it this way

stormed the beach endorsed free speech pulled swords faced lords met coroners

 

I guess I s-s-s-s-struck a nerve

It’s easy when they n-n-never learn

I just hit’em with the verses first (woo)

Then show’em how the chorus works (ye, ye)x2

 

Now they living on corners watching corner stores

get knocked up like Nadya cause everyone’s poor as dirt

How can it be America first when those who served can’t even afford a shirt?

Most of us don’t stop drinkin even though we don’t know the source of our own thirst

This worlds full of contradictors it makes me kinda sick ta

Hear them tell us how to live then they go get their fix on

They claim to be the winners and say you’re all born sinners

While the pope scrolls through more porn on his little flip phone

Take a sit homes my name’s Chris Hanson

I heard you like dancin’ to kids who insist you call’em lil hacks and

they couldn’t hack it if I gave’m a battleaxe and battle rapped’em with a hatchet

I’m not scared of fake I can see through plastic like 90s fashion

But like a fever dream everything I sing ends up like ICP strung out on pcp echoing through pvc

You can find my tape for free on tv if you shop at QVC or dollar tree

I don’t got a lotta dreams I just hope that nobody bothers me

 

You smoke a lotta lotta trees (for real)

But your songs gotta gotta breath (you feel?)

You got bottom dollar G’s cause your not on top of deez

(nuts)

You fuckin’ muts x2

 

I feel like I’m fathering more offspring than Holland

I promise I’m not the citizen you wanna model

But if I gotta hand you a motto fuck the lotto cause money aint power

Like a bear faced with mace they wanna see you run the human race away from fate

Urging you to keep up the pace with the paper chase cause the holler

of the almighty dollar rings louder when you place the latest craze that’s made to

take away your liberties higher than the status of your enemy

Tell’em to bend the knee when they ask for your privacy

I don’t fuck with anyone who lies to me

My vanilla sky aint a dream cause I already do as I please

That’s the only way to hold on to your sanity

Not bothered when I can’t appease and you’ll never have my sympathy

You have to earn respect and that don’t come from lists or greed

They try to act like Mr. Clean and wipe out our whole history

Maybe next time I’ll have to use my fist to sing