Wax - I Ain't a Real Man lyrics
[Wax - I Ain't a Real Man lyrics]
I ain't a real man, real men work
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work, that when you get home
Your back hurt bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
I ain't a real man, real men work
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work
That when you get home your back hurt
Bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
Rapping and rhyming, that isn't grinding
What's grinding, the cats that were trapped
In the mine when the mine
Capsized over top of them
And cats couldn't find them
Little kids asking the firemen
If dad was alive
In the tragic environment that dad had
A task to provide them with
A little shelter and food to eat
So he traveled deep in
The sweltering grueling heat
Moving his feet til' he a mile below
Knowing some workers died there
A little while ago
No es nada, people gotta do what they gotta
A man gets a little but
"The Man" gets a lotta
Nothing proper, never got an opportunity
To get a bachelor's or a docto-
Rate, pop'll get the opposite
Fire in the hole never had a silver spoon so
He's mining for the gold and eventually
It gets to a designer and it's sold
And it's worn around the neck of
Someone rhyming and we're told
That they got that shit grinding
I don't get that
The dude's grinding climbed in with a pickaxe
And I ain't hating if you spit raps
I'm just saying I admit facts
I ain't a real man, real men work
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work, that when you get home
Your back hurt bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
I ain't a real man, real men work
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work
That when you get home your back hurt
Bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
Backstage I feel nervousness
Hoping that the show reach perfectness
But it feels kind of purposeless
When I think of motherfuckers
In the armed services
And man it ain't even right
That what they make in a month
I'ma make it tonight
And when they come home
They gon' wake up late in the night
What they saw, ain't no shaking the sight
I mean stage fright's something
I can deal with
A grenade fight fucker that's some real shit
They say the stage light's bright
But, it's actually kinda dark
When it's placed next to your
Newly missing body part
Or the bullet that hit your
Friend and stopped his heart
You're eighteen, your life's about to start
But some come home, people like "Who are you
Man?"
Some come home and they wife got a new man
Some come home and they
Life fall into shambles
Now they're just trying to keep
A soup can full
You can see 'em up in any town
Uncle Sam don't pay per diem
In the later rounds
He got a cardboard box sign
"Iraq Vet in need of far more boxed wine"
With his family gone
And some judgmental shit ain't what
Your man be on
'Cause, I'ma still look at dude as a champion
We get paid to chant these songs, it's stupid
I ain't a real man, real men work
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work, that when you get home
Your back hurt bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
I ain't a real man, real men work
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work
That when you get home your back hurt
Bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
This is for my DC cats that
Would sell me a 20 sack
And the migrant workers sending money back
To the fat plumbers who
Invented plumbers crack
Put your hands up, where you motherfuckers at
Fuck a trucker hat
Where the real truckers at
At a rest stop 'cause they
Wanna take a fucking nap
Electricians, don't get fucking zapped
Nobody better than y'all just
Because they rap
To the people work at McDonald's
Who wanna go to the corporate
Headquarters and smack Ronald
Across his face, i hope that stupid ass
Company falls from grace
Ayo, McFuck, the McRib
They can, McSuck, my McDick, check it out
McFuck, the McRib
They can, McSuck, my McDick
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work, that when you get home
Your back hurt bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
I ain't a real man, real men work
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work
That when you get home your back hurt
Bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
Rapping and rhyming, that isn't grinding
What's grinding, the cats that were trapped
In the mine when the mine
Capsized over top of them
And cats couldn't find them
Little kids asking the firemen
If dad was alive
In the tragic environment that dad had
A task to provide them with
A little shelter and food to eat
So he traveled deep in
The sweltering grueling heat
Moving his feet til' he a mile below
Knowing some workers died there
A little while ago
No es nada, people gotta do what they gotta
A man gets a little but
"The Man" gets a lotta
Nothing proper, never got an opportunity
To get a bachelor's or a docto-
Rate, pop'll get the opposite
Fire in the hole never had a silver spoon so
He's mining for the gold and eventually
It gets to a designer and it's sold
And it's worn around the neck of
Someone rhyming and we're told
That they got that shit grinding
I don't get that
The dude's grinding climbed in with a pickaxe
And I ain't hating if you spit raps
I'm just saying I admit facts
I ain't a real man, real men work
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work, that when you get home
Your back hurt bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
I ain't a real man, real men work
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work
That when you get home your back hurt
Bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
Backstage I feel nervousness
Hoping that the show reach perfectness
But it feels kind of purposeless
When I think of motherfuckers
In the armed services
And man it ain't even right
That what they make in a month
I'ma make it tonight
And when they come home
They gon' wake up late in the night
What they saw, ain't no shaking the sight
I mean stage fright's something
I can deal with
A grenade fight fucker that's some real shit
They say the stage light's bright
But, it's actually kinda dark
When it's placed next to your
Newly missing body part
Or the bullet that hit your
Friend and stopped his heart
You're eighteen, your life's about to start
But some come home, people like "Who are you
Man?"
Some come home and they wife got a new man
Some come home and they
Life fall into shambles
Now they're just trying to keep
A soup can full
You can see 'em up in any town
Uncle Sam don't pay per diem
In the later rounds
He got a cardboard box sign
"Iraq Vet in need of far more boxed wine"
With his family gone
And some judgmental shit ain't what
Your man be on
'Cause, I'ma still look at dude as a champion
We get paid to chant these songs, it's stupid
I ain't a real man, real men work
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work, that when you get home
Your back hurt bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
I ain't a real man, real men work
Digging, digging, shoveling dirt
The kind of work
That when you get home your back hurt
Bloodstains cover your shirt
That's real work
This is for my DC cats that
Would sell me a 20 sack
And the migrant workers sending money back
To the fat plumbers who
Invented plumbers crack
Put your hands up, where you motherfuckers at
Fuck a trucker hat
Where the real truckers at
At a rest stop 'cause they
Wanna take a fucking nap
Electricians, don't get fucking zapped
Nobody better than y'all just
Because they rap
To the people work at McDonald's
Who wanna go to the corporate
Headquarters and smack Ronald
Across his face, i hope that stupid ass
Company falls from grace
Ayo, McFuck, the McRib
They can, McSuck, my McDick, check it out
McFuck, the McRib
They can, McSuck, my McDick