Sick
Back up right now
Back up right now
Back up, back up right now
Back up right now
Back up, back up right now
Sick of shitty DJs that mix no decks
I'm spitting at you as my middle fingers protest
If I'm really pissed, you won't finish your set
I'll break a bottle, hop on stage and start slitting your necks
Sick of grotesque hoes with silicone breasts
Bulging out they silly clothes when they stripping on Ecs
Stereotypical rappers get me so vexed
They think their flow's fresh 'cause they gripping those TECs
Machos acting bold though they getting no sex
Your dick can't grow bigger with a silver Rolex
Boasting jiggalos with they big, exposed pecs
When you go home, we know that you're your bitches home pets
Sick of impatient kids, you're souless
Quit skipping through my tracks and quit clicking on next
You make me fucking sick bitch, and bitter no less
(Back up right now, back up, back up right now)
You know what? (What's up?)
You make me wanna throw up
Go away (why?)
'Cause I've had a bad day
You know what? (What's up?)
You make me wanna throw up
Go away! (Why?)
'Cause I've had a bad day
I ain't talking junk
Ain't trying to warn you with a stunt
I'm the type to drive around with traffic wardens in my trunk
Awkward when I'm drunk
Wizzing on your wall for fricking fun
I'll pistol-whip a waiter when I walk in with a gun (ha!)
I go liquor-shopping, hit the store with a lit blunt
And walk out without playing shit, I steal my 40s when I want
I walk passed the mortuary, "Good morning everyone!"
Then punch a weaping widow, "Quit acting morbid, silly cunt!"
I go to your corny show, slap the shawties in the front
Shit on your backstage floor, you boring little punk
I've had an awful week dog, a long and shitty month
I really wanna pile all your fucking cropes in the dump
Dig up your caskets, fill your coffins in my spunk
(Back up right now, back up, back up right now)
Wipe that silly grin off, I'll piss on your face
Treat you like Ronald Poppo and rip off your traits
You bitch talk, you've got a big jaw to break
I'll rip your tongue out, so you ain't got shit more to say
Rip your skin off 'til your bitch calls the jake
Just because you listen to Rick Ross and Drake
Just playing, it's just that I'm pissed off today
I wanna rip your limbs off make jigsaw display
I'm crazy, got a lot of shit on my plate
You make me feel nauseated and sick all the way
You know what? (What's up?)
You know what? (What's up?)
You make me wanna throw up
You know what? (What's up?)
You make me wanna throw up
Go away (why?)
'Cause I've had a bad day
Back up right now
Back up, back up right now
Back up right now
Back up, back up right now
Sick of shitty DJs that mix no decks
I'm spitting at you as my middle fingers protest
If I'm really pissed, you won't finish your set
I'll break a bottle, hop on stage and start slitting your necks
Sick of grotesque hoes with silicone breasts
Bulging out they silly clothes when they stripping on Ecs
Stereotypical rappers get me so vexed
They think their flow's fresh 'cause they gripping those TECs
Machos acting bold though they getting no sex
Your dick can't grow bigger with a silver Rolex
Boasting jiggalos with they big, exposed pecs
When you go home, we know that you're your bitches home pets
Sick of impatient kids, you're souless
Quit skipping through my tracks and quit clicking on next
You make me fucking sick bitch, and bitter no less
(Back up right now, back up, back up right now)
You know what? (What's up?)
You make me wanna throw up
Go away (why?)
'Cause I've had a bad day
You know what? (What's up?)
You make me wanna throw up
Go away! (Why?)
'Cause I've had a bad day
I ain't talking junk
Ain't trying to warn you with a stunt
I'm the type to drive around with traffic wardens in my trunk
Awkward when I'm drunk
Wizzing on your wall for fricking fun
I'll pistol-whip a waiter when I walk in with a gun (ha!)
I go liquor-shopping, hit the store with a lit blunt
And walk out without playing shit, I steal my 40s when I want
I walk passed the mortuary, "Good morning everyone!"
Then punch a weaping widow, "Quit acting morbid, silly cunt!"
I go to your corny show, slap the shawties in the front
Shit on your backstage floor, you boring little punk
I've had an awful week dog, a long and shitty month
I really wanna pile all your fucking cropes in the dump
Dig up your caskets, fill your coffins in my spunk
(Back up right now, back up, back up right now)
Wipe that silly grin off, I'll piss on your face
Treat you like Ronald Poppo and rip off your traits
You bitch talk, you've got a big jaw to break
I'll rip your tongue out, so you ain't got shit more to say
Rip your skin off 'til your bitch calls the jake
Just because you listen to Rick Ross and Drake
Just playing, it's just that I'm pissed off today
I wanna rip your limbs off make jigsaw display
I'm crazy, got a lot of shit on my plate
You make me feel nauseated and sick all the way
You know what? (What's up?)
You know what? (What's up?)
You make me wanna throw up
You know what? (What's up?)
You make me wanna throw up
Go away (why?)
'Cause I've had a bad day
Credits
Writer(s): Pierre Scarland, Alban Bernad
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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