Look at you,
In your swanky-ass sports car
That I could only dream to touch.
I only drive
A hand-me-down sedan
That I fill with the cheapest gasoline
At half-tank.
Who needs a Lamborghini cruisin’ through EDSA,
And by “cruisin’” I mean goin’ 25.
I bet you think you’re really fly, don’t you, rich guy,
Bet you worked hard day and night just for that trust fund, baby.
So get your CCTVs off my back,
And tell your guards to get off my fuckin’ track.
Hey, mister,
I’ve got no shit to give you,
Just take your hands right out my pocket.
Hey, mister,
I really wouldn’t miss you,
In fact, I’d tell you to go suck it.
Don’t tell me just follow the rules and keep my head down —
Between the two of us, I’ve not got much to lose.
Now, I’m not usually the one to make thinly-veiled threats
No offense, but I’m really down to chop some heads
So get your CCTVs off my back,
And tell your guards to get off my fuckin’ track.
Hey, mister,
I’ve got no shit to give you,
Just take your hands right out my pocket.
Hey, mister,
I really wouldn’t miss you,
In fact, I’d tell you to go suck it.
Get your CCTVs off my back,
And tell your guards to get off my track.
If I’m a criminal, then you’re Al Capone,
So leave me be ‘cause I don’t like your fuckin’ tone.
Hey, mister,
I’ve got no shit to give you,
Just take your hands right out my pocket.
Hey, mister,
I really wouldn’t miss you,
In fact, I’d tell you to go suck it.
Hey, mister!
Sorry, mister!
Hey, mister, I keyed your fucking car.
Hey, mister!
Sorry, mister!
No, mister, I don’t know who you fucking are.
Is a solo artist based somewhere in (a) country. Their debut record, Best in Class, follows in the wake of their non-musical
exploits, which include strangling a polar bear with their bare hands (it was self-defense) and possible acts of aggressive shoplifting.
According to prophecy (i.e. Quiapo), they're the reincarnation of famed milk salesman, Max Stirner (Stirn/er pronouns please) and...more
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