Lyrics:
Sitting in my car, been driving through the alleys in the night, in the night, ive been running outta time, being chased by the demons all behind me,
like, oh, yeah, yeah
I'd rather get popped than get showed up by a lame nigga
You a bum talkin' bout some pape, you a damn fibber
Every time I wake up,
Well, either you're closing your eyes
To a situation you do not wish to acknowledge
Or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster
Indicated by
It all seems so strange
The mutes the bums
The dogs with mange, the poor,
Doesn't anybody help themselves anymore
I guess not
Barefoot pregnant women
anymore just wait until your dad gets home and sees what
You have done kicked out of school you've got no job you're a useless
Delinquent bum oh my god
It all seems so strange
The mutes the bums
The dogs with mange, the poor,
Doesn't anybody help themselves anymore
I guess not
Barefoot pregnant
It's lonesome away, from your kindred and all
By the campfire at night, where the wild dingoes call
But there's nothing so lonesome, so morbid
a tower to bum
Torch, a flaming brand, a pyre blazing scourge
Heretics Clad in flames die in silence
It is no doubt the right way
The perfect way to go
a bum searching for eternal slack
Pride, intelligence, motivation: there was nothing that I did not lack
But then I went to see a doctor and he showed
for this fate's in
The element of fine print I've read it and overseen
By judgmental pompous ass phonetics, the critic
I'm still the rapper for
screwing up
Torment me with lies in front of my friends
Call me a fucking bum like I'm a con man
Call me a fucking jerk like I'm a rapist
Call me
there's this friend of mine -- he's always by my side
He gives me a place to go when things get bleak
He's always there for me ... He rubs my eyes for me
At least he loves his city
Holding court on Taylor Square proper was the man he could become
Lear's Fool is a bum now
With seven holy parcels by his
Hey you bum, yeah, you, move over
Get your ass off that Range over
That attitude toward the homeless is exactly what Maureen is protesting
ain't never had a fifty, you ain't had a hun'
You ain't never had a quarter ticket, lil' dirty bum
I bet I'll have ten M's when I'm thirty-somethin'
liquor on your breath
If it don't break you
It might just make you rich
You might not get there
And on the way it's a bitch
Gettin by, gettin
with the weatherby re-runs
Rent-a-ski beach bum with the broken Oakleys
When he Hang Ten men for the locals only
Rowboat slowly to the Roanoke docks
the bum is bound by al
When the charts are fouled
When the crowds go wild
(Wiki)
How did I land? Right in this land
Man-hat-tan
Right were you stand
a song with
And I got to say I don't see that happening
Rap at the king, come for the crown
Fuck you pay me, I puff puff pound
Grab at the bling, bum
It's so nice to be rich, rich, rich, rich...
You are viewing lyrics of It's So Nice To Be Rich by AGNETHA FALTSKOG from the album UNKNOWN
It's time I live my life my way
Do the best I can each day
With the world on the downside
Fallen by the wayside
Walking through hell
With a carcass
Runaway... runaway slave (8X)
Verse One: A.G.
Livin in the slums with the bums, the rats and the stray cats
Dogs with the rabies, little babies are
From the pocket of an honest preacher
To the empty hand of a homeless bum
To the cash drawer at the liquor store
Where he bought a pint of rum
My heart is the bums on the street
With nothing to eat and their dirty hands cupped up
My heart is the squirrels in the park
Late Sunday evening
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