Sports Car Mo Bulok
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
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
Credits
Writer(s): Anna Lissa Bantigue
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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