Well-Oil Machine

Here comes the boss so pretend to act busy
We'll move so fast his ass will get dizzy
You know if we're slow he'll bitch and moan
Then go sit his fat ass on his thrown

Six figure paycheck just to complain
Six-hundred pound man zero brain
Think I have respect for a walking turd
Fuck what you say we'll flush you away

You're a walking heart attack
I hope you gain a few more pounds
You sit on a thrown of labor
Someone ought to take you down

Think you're the boss of me you're just a fat fuck
Can't do what I do 'cause you really suck
I'm not a horse you're not a jockey
So why's this motherfucker walk around so fucking cocky?

Just a rich piece of shit thinking you're the star
I do all the work while you're at the bar
This guy really thinks I give a shit
Well it's your job now I fucking quit

You're a walking heart attack
I hope you gain a few more pounds
You sit on a thrown of labor
Someone ought to take you down
I don't give shit about the money
I don't give a shit about your friends
I don't give a shit about the future
It doesn't matter 'cause this is the end



Credits
Writer(s): Tyler Scott Stephens
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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