KXNG Crooked, Emanny, Mike Smith (Smith & Hay) - Sick Of Being Broke lyrics
[KXNG Crooked, Emanny, Mike Smith Smith & Hay - Sick Of Being Broke lyrics]
My homie said what up
I told him dawg I can't call it
Digging into my pocket
Ain't got a dollar in my wallet
Got me drinking this vodka till
I fall like an alcoholic
I'm so sick of being broke I'm
Ready to vomit on the carpet
I tried to find a job to
Avoid the thought of hurling
But ever single person treating me
Worse than Donald Sterling lying to my face
They said they ain't have no more positions
Then hired the dude behind me because
He had a different pigment
I'm sick of being broke, man
Fuck a piece of ass
See my mother needs some cash
Nigga my bucket needs some gas
My homies pushing dope
It's so tough for me to ask
For some help I had to
They finally fuck with me at last
Told me they had some work they
Needed a nigga to Tennessee
And if I get it there I'm
Getting a G off every key
Penitentiary chances
Y'all know how that work
I'm driving to Tennessee rocking dockers
And a church shirt i'm sick of being broke
I'm sick of being broke
Last night I shared a tear, man
A nigga need some hope
I'm running out of options
At the end of my rope i ain't a bad guy
I'm just sick of being broke
(I'm not asking for everything
I don't need much, I don't need much
I'm just tired of struggling
So sick now, I'm sick of being broke)
My homie said what up
I told him dawg I can't call it
Hundreds in my pocket dollars all
In my Prada wallet
The way I'm popping bottles y'all
Would think I was alcoholic
Woozy on the club couch
Ready to vomit on they carpet
I reminisce when I was on
The block without a cent
Digging into my pocket all a
Nigga got was cotton lint
Telling my conscience I'm
Still honest because i pay my mama's rent
This hustle never lasts forever
I still got some common sense
Yeah, I'm getting money
But the walls are closing in
Homies getting busted doing their time
Up in the pen
Other homies can't be trusted dropping
Dimes on they friends
I'm wondering if I'm next while
I recline in my Benz so man rainy days
But this paper made it sunny
At the Staples watching the Lakers hanging
With a gang of hunnies
And now that I'm making money haters
Wanna take it from me
Paranoid I know them boys watching, man
I ain't a dummy
I'm just sick of being broke
I told him dawg I can't call it
Digging into my pocket
Ain't got a dollar in my wallet
Got me drinking this vodka till
I fall like an alcoholic
I'm so sick of being broke I'm
Ready to vomit on the carpet
I tried to find a job to
Avoid the thought of hurling
But ever single person treating me
Worse than Donald Sterling lying to my face
They said they ain't have no more positions
Then hired the dude behind me because
He had a different pigment
I'm sick of being broke, man
Fuck a piece of ass
See my mother needs some cash
Nigga my bucket needs some gas
My homies pushing dope
It's so tough for me to ask
For some help I had to
They finally fuck with me at last
Told me they had some work they
Needed a nigga to Tennessee
And if I get it there I'm
Getting a G off every key
Penitentiary chances
Y'all know how that work
I'm driving to Tennessee rocking dockers
And a church shirt i'm sick of being broke
I'm sick of being broke
Last night I shared a tear, man
A nigga need some hope
I'm running out of options
At the end of my rope i ain't a bad guy
I'm just sick of being broke
(I'm not asking for everything
I don't need much, I don't need much
I'm just tired of struggling
So sick now, I'm sick of being broke)
My homie said what up
I told him dawg I can't call it
Hundreds in my pocket dollars all
In my Prada wallet
The way I'm popping bottles y'all
Would think I was alcoholic
Woozy on the club couch
Ready to vomit on they carpet
I reminisce when I was on
The block without a cent
Digging into my pocket all a
Nigga got was cotton lint
Telling my conscience I'm
Still honest because i pay my mama's rent
This hustle never lasts forever
I still got some common sense
Yeah, I'm getting money
But the walls are closing in
Homies getting busted doing their time
Up in the pen
Other homies can't be trusted dropping
Dimes on they friends
I'm wondering if I'm next while
I recline in my Benz so man rainy days
But this paper made it sunny
At the Staples watching the Lakers hanging
With a gang of hunnies
And now that I'm making money haters
Wanna take it from me
Paranoid I know them boys watching, man
I ain't a dummy
I'm just sick of being broke