M.C.I.S.
My city is shitty there is no excuse
Copious amounts of neglect, trash, and drug abuse
Panhandlers out to play upon your guilt
But how certain can you be of their cardboard anecdotal lies
We're the meth capital of the world
Panhandlers and potholes a galore
Highways and strip-malls
What a bore
You know the old saying: You can't polish a turd
But that don't stop the city from
Gentrifying lower-socioeconomic neighborhoods
It used to make me laugh
But now I get mad when I have to see
A world absurd in which the rich
Keep getting richer and the poor keep growing poor
We're the meth capital of the world
Panhandlers and potholes a galore
Highways and strip-malls
What a bore
If it weren't for the friends I've made in this shitty city
I'd put a bullet in my brain
Why anyone would wanna live in this shitty city
God only fucking knows
Ain't no shame in sayin' my city's shitty
The golden shackles tend to be your employment or your family
But don't you dare get stuck in this fucking state
When all's you's gots to do is drive yourself to a much better place
We're the meth capital of the world
Panhandlers and potholes a galore
Highways and strip-malls
What a bore
Copious amounts of neglect, trash, and drug abuse
Panhandlers out to play upon your guilt
But how certain can you be of their cardboard anecdotal lies
We're the meth capital of the world
Panhandlers and potholes a galore
Highways and strip-malls
What a bore
You know the old saying: You can't polish a turd
But that don't stop the city from
Gentrifying lower-socioeconomic neighborhoods
It used to make me laugh
But now I get mad when I have to see
A world absurd in which the rich
Keep getting richer and the poor keep growing poor
We're the meth capital of the world
Panhandlers and potholes a galore
Highways and strip-malls
What a bore
If it weren't for the friends I've made in this shitty city
I'd put a bullet in my brain
Why anyone would wanna live in this shitty city
God only fucking knows
Ain't no shame in sayin' my city's shitty
The golden shackles tend to be your employment or your family
But don't you dare get stuck in this fucking state
When all's you's gots to do is drive yourself to a much better place
We're the meth capital of the world
Panhandlers and potholes a galore
Highways and strip-malls
What a bore
Credits
Writer(s): Freddie Rodriguez
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