Bills

(Friday flips)

Goddamn, Goddamn, Goddamn, Goddamn
(Goddamn this song)
Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man
(Let's give it a shot)
I got bills
I got bills, bills, bills
Work, work
Bills, bills
Goddamn, Goddamn
Work, work
Bills
Oh man. oh man
I got

Yeah, yeah
Money in the trunk
Pockets so deep I ain't dug in them for months
Nah, Wednesday's still a hump
Hungry as fuck, tummy like a krump
Yeah I been eating rappers for lunch
Still eating rappers for lunch
But these lightweights don't seem to get my calories up
And I don't share drinks
Yeah boom, no punch

I got bills I gotta pay
So I'm gon' work work work everyday
(everyday everday)
I got mouths I gotta feed
So I'm gon' make sure everybody eats
I got bills

Look man, I can school bookworms
Every rapper I welcomed to burns
Drop punted, jumped into this foot-first
Truth hurts, I'm as Melbourne as hook turns
Can't care less what the government says
Demented, push back every time Telstra presses
Had a paid plan, guess I messed it up
Charlie, no XCX
It's been three months of phone calls, SMS's
Mailbox full, can't they get the message
Yeah no matter how fucking read the text is
I'm still not shook on collection letters
Like dear Mr. Police, thanks for the fine
Top of the garbage, back of the mind
Take me to court, happily oblige
See you in six months, actually psych
That was my way through a lot
Now they pull me over, I'm paying on the spot
I give a fuck what the neighbourhood wants
Want this bass down? Take it up with the cops
What's the point if we can't get a life
Since when did sick cunts get marginalised?
Man is magic, hit targets in life
Just a part of the price and I got

Bills I gotta pay
So I'm gon' work work work everyday
(everyday everyday)
I got mouths I gotta feed
So I'm gon' make sure everybody eats
I got bills

Yo, special shoutout to Nic Martin for making this beat something crazy
And all you rappers talking like you don't got bills

You ain't here to talk shop, get the hell out
Everyone so quick to say sellout
With the back catalogues full of sweet shit
And a whole lotta pimping themselves in the mailout
Still, the talking harder than club bounces
Dummies throw steel bras through the glass houses
Till they tire their Mums out, let your guard down
Then we barge round and go Rick James all over your white couch
Kill shit, and then we spa from the past vouchers
And I'm hardly for narcissists
The same way these arseholes are hardly for artists
Stay out, and we denied, stay out tomatoes
It's as if a decade ain't passed us
It's as if my rhymes aren't so fat
That you don't hear the net weight then gasp
Mate you asked
Gone off-topic, half-cocked it
You scissor bitch, I rock it
This isn't for giggles and shits
It's honest work, boy gotta pocket

Cause I got bills
I got bills, bills, bills
Work, work
Bills, bills
Goddamn, Goddamn
Work, work
Bills
Oh man, oh man
Look I got bills
Mama got bills
(Everybody got fucking bills)
Your Daddy got bills
Your sister got bills
(I'm just being honest about it)
Your aunty got bills
Mama got bills
(Friday flips)
Everybody got bills
(Lunchbox, LunchMoney Lewis, whatever the cunt's fucking name is)
Everybody got bills
Everybody got bills
(Shit why do I keep calling him Lunchbox?)