Cloudy, muggy, the day's all shitty as hell

Fighting fainting spells, the city's the rail

Quarter delay at a quarter to six

I'm sorry lady done stepped on my kicks, voluptuous tricks

Fucking around, and it sucks to be you

But I guess living a lie is a luxury too

It's probably plain to say that some strange days

And any which way let a man convey it

Commit to his terms no need for concern

From his own mistakes, yeah baby you must learn

Hand full of tricks, A fist full of motivation

Flailing punches, swinging without hesitation

Snooping around, ain't no buried treasure

It's just sunken ships and short-lived pleasures

It's the simple things that brick up a foundation

Like a mound of patience gets you a pound of weight

I'm hating cause there ain't much love in my life

It's just drugs, jobs, and a bundle of gripes. (What?)

Haven't you heard, it's a modern condition

A band of glitches, and a mob of bitching

A crowd of adversaries, the more the merrier

I ain't going down without a fight till my burial

You broke the barrier, and fell off it's spokes

Now it's tumbling down and it's waking the folks

(Chorus)

Guess these ailments come along with the territory

A better story, now you're telling me what's better for me

Mellow shorty, wanna chill with the kinfolk

Smoke weed and be down with those inside jokes. (haha)

Bubble(?) of mischief, let's take you to the disco

There's talk of the demo, but still no disc, though

Provoke panic, how strange they demand it

In a city of millions, how one can feel stranded

Hand to the heart, now one can feel the tempo

One empty bottle and one written-verse memento

All in all, still sorta like a good day

One Ice Cube for this growing pain tooth-ache

Baked on a Monday, the missus is still snoring

Ignoring the phony, imagination is soaring

Designing Women with a fat ass like Delta Burke

Working girls still find time just to make it work

B-b-back to the drawing board

Scribbled her vaguely

Jot then a mock, frown, "Why the long face, B?"

Neglect is heard, I must have been stabbed or something

Blood curdling, the wound is now settling

In stitches, the broken hand counts riches

Was it his heart, maybe they broke his spirit

Only time will tell, they've just began to hear it

The mic's torrid, you can't come near it