keshaldra
High Hand
Backstabbing ass snakes with friendly grins.
Committing so many sins.
Giving in when this bottle of Henny wins.
Never having any ends.
Having skinny friends hooked on crack and mini thins.
This DJ playing your shit when he spins.
Not having a deal.
Having to deal with the bullshit without grabbing the steal.
Drowning in my sorrow.
Having to borrow a dollar for gas to start my Monte Carlo.
Motherfuckers spraying shit and darting off.
Jobs starting off at $5.50 an hour then this boss wonders why I'm smarting off.
Being fired every time I fart and cough.
Having to work as a gas station clerk.
This jerk breathing down my neck driving me berserk.
Using plastic silverware.
Working at Builder's Square.
Not being a millionaire.
Being white trash, broke, and always poor.
Taking pop bottles back to the party store.
Not having a phone.
Not having a home to have one in if I did have one on.
Not driving a BM.
Not working at GM.
Wanting to be him.
Not sleeping without a Tylenol PM.
Not performing in a packed coliseum.
Not being on tour.
Fucking the same blonde whore after work in the back of a Contour.
Fake knots with a stack of ones.
Having a lack of funds and resorting back to guns.
Being stared at.
Wearing the same damn Nike Air hat.
Stepping in clubs wearing the same pair of Lugz.
People saying they're tired of hearing me rap about drugs.
Other rappers who ain't bringing half the skill as me saying they wasn't feeling me on "Nobody's As Ill As Me."
Radio stations telling fibs.
JLB saying, "Where hip hop lives."
Must be a Detroit thing. ICP has some complaints as well:
You, me, us.
Tom, Mary, Gus.
Darius.
The west coast.
Everybody on the east.
Pre-schoolers, rulers,
Kings, queens, and gold jewelers.
Wine coolers.
Chicken, ducks.
Everybody in your crew.
Critics, your review.
You again. (even if you like me)
Your mom, and her momma
The Beastie Boys and the Dalai Lama.
The rain forest.
Forrest Gump.
A shoe pump.
The real deal and the fakes.
All 52 states.
You (again).
Oprah, opera.
A soap opera.
Pop lockers and cock blockers.
Your girlfriend.
Kyle, and his brother, Tom Petty.
Jump Steady, my homie.
You, and you again.
The president, welfare.
The government, Fred Bear.
Ted Nugent.
Disco, Count of Monte Crisco (sic)
Sisqo. Jack and Jerry Brisco.
Everyone that went down on the Titanic.
Celine Dion, Dionne Warwick.
Both sides of the Berlin wall.
Lyle Lovett.
Everybody in the hemisphere
Them across the world, and them right here.
The guy that operates the Rouge River drawbridge on Delray and Jefferson.
Your idea, gonorrhea
Diarrhea, Rocky Maivia
Your wife.
The police, as well as the 5-0 (though I'm not certain the discrepancy)
Spin, Rolling Stone, and Vibe (as well as everyone inside).
The mother of the person on the cover.
Your little brother's homie from around the way.
Violent J.
Their complaints seem a little less structured than most, it seems.