Odd Jobs

(album: BLVD BOY - 2021)

Grew up doin odd jobs, tryna make the ends meet
Comfy in my knock-offs, riding on my ten speed
Eager for some money (I need some motherfucking money)
So I'm really 'bout whatever (I'm really 'bout whatever in this bitch)

Okay, I burned a couple CDs, flipped a twenty to a noodle pack
Kept a Franklin on me, as a younging been a frugal cat
Couple my friends parents was some smokers, some had stupid racks
I maneuver both of 'em for what it was, we used to that
I been in my lucid bag, having vivid dreams about it
Making shit to eat with moldy wheat, mama said eat around it
Never make believe, pawning PSPs, we ain't need allowance
Now I tell a goofy he can keep his thousands
I've been twisting up since ten, hit the K2 at eleven
Thought my limbs was falling off and I still think they on by threadings
Hit the salvia at thirteen, threw up, had the worst dreams
Saying, "pass it, pass it," now they laughin'-laughing, saying, "Travis-Travis, is it working?"
I'm Scantron test circling like "fuck it", none of us going to college
Porcelain grip and I'm touring in middle America, none of us know when to call it
Bit off the muscle with no anabolic
Willing to hustle, I'm young and unpolished
The first shit I heard at the park was The Chronic
Like, "Fuck is up, bitch? I'm Kurupt," an Impala like "ooh"
This that mainline, that chaos to my bloodstream
Got a great mind for the deaf sales and a day job where she fuck me
Hit a new drop like a Flex bomb, odd jobs for a check, dawg
Since Nesquik in my sippy cup, like, "Anyone doing a line?"

Grew up doin odd jobs, tryna make the ends meet
Comfy in my knock-offs, riding on my ten speed
Eager for some money (Eager for some money)
So I'm really 'bout whatever (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Everybody wanna die in they sleep, wanna ride when it's beef
Go and rely on that pride, when it's time, you will see
That the world don't care
That the world don't care (Yeah, hold on)

Hot Topic blacked out like I'm gothic, doing odd jobs
Dennis Rodman, on that bullshit since '91
Who the fuck want what?
I never understood what they running from
Put 'em on a bench, they press no effort
I flex, they stress better
I put 'em undercover and spray 'em like bedwetters
Was a bad-ass kid, threw fits like trendsetters
X on my back, Off-White on my black sweater, yeah

I just had sex on my BMX
I whip a Harley bike with two different bitches that I just bench-pressed
They star-struck, eyeball Glenn, fuck 'em at Starbucks
I really do think that you all suck, really better get down, all sluts
Like, "aw shit", beating 'em down like a mosh pit
Writing my name on a ball bat, knocking 'em out, Barry Bonds, bitch
Really be thinking I'm God, look, I am nothing but an odd man
Steady flipping all these odd jobs, I don't be doing no off-brand

Grew up doin odd jobs, tryna make the ends meet
Comfy in my knock-offs, riding on my ten speed
Eager for some money (Eager for some money)
So I'm really 'bout whatever (Really 'bout whatever)
Grew up doin odd jobs, tryna make the ends meet
Hoopties in my car port and now I need a Benz fleet
Eager for some money (Eager for some money)
So I'm really 'bout whatever (I'm really 'bout whatever, swear to God)

Tyler might've did something
Hey Mr. Smith do you need a dog walker?