Empty Pocket

They told me save it for a rainy day
But man you gotta pay to play
And gradually it fades away
I'm always on a paper chase
Summer days I marinate
And swimming in the baby rays
Winter nights black alike
Cuts me up like razor blades
Still the fucking bills are stacking
Higher in the pills in the fridge this makes me tired
Throw a log on the fire hold it off for a while
I'm scrapping to make the ends mean
Mitsubishi rolling on empty
Slanging and starting attempting
Change doesn't come, changes are made
Maybe a month, maybe a day
Maybe a week or until maybe I'm paid
Top it up, give 'em a shade
Making it rain,
Praying that this time it works
And the money we'll take away pain
Where nothing has changed, ain't it insane

[Hook]
Tired of always fucking around
Living at the mount
I'm on top till I'm gone
Everything I put in there
Always disappears
Like my pocket hole

They told me money doesn't grow on trees
But loves to be in pyramids
Oversee our over seas
Keep up your appearances
Keep on interfering
Nothing had to fear but fear itself
Get your education up
Professor amenities
The fuck our ounce bout to expire
And I need it 'cause this coffee gets me wild
Keeps me up when I'm tired
Feels like I'm stuck in a spiral
Spinning around figuring out
When to get off when to get down
Stuck in a world sent it around
Dollars and euros and pounds and crowns
Problems are yours milling around
Everything goes
But you at the bottom and them at the top
Just counting the gold to get in your lines
Stay in your place do as you're told
Just stay on your toes down in the cold

[Hook]
Tired of always fucking around
Living at the mount
I'm on top till I'm gone
Everything I put in there
Always disappears
Like my pocket hole

Trying to get my mind
Before this money I ain't making
Money I ain't making
Money I ain't making
Trying to get my mind
Before this money I ain't making
Money I ain't making
Money I ain't making
Trying to get my mind
Before this money I ain't making
Money I ain't making
Money I ain't making

[Hook]
Tired of always fucking around
Living at the mount
I'm on top till I'm gone
Everything I put in there
Always disappears
Like my pocket hole



Credits
Writer(s): Jens Eric Resch Thomason, Marten Mulamba Sakwanda
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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