Lyrics:
have to stay at home.
Managers have become their slaves.
The old „witch“ is no longer alone.
When there is no way out.
Please then take care.
privilege from the ugly mare horse
Karen
I'm not the manager
Karen
I don't even work here
Karen
I'm not the manager
Karen
It's time to go home
I wanna see
from
His management firm, Roc Nation
His record label
Atlantic Records and Maybach Music Group
A subsidiary of Atlantic plus
His own longtime
Manager
I trust)
I been fucked by so many damn managers
While they push me out front of these cameras (managers, cameras)
All this music I done gave
and I ain't made shit
I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky
Man, man, man
If my manager insults me again I will be assaulting him
and I ain't made shit
I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky
Man, man, man
If my manager insults me again I will be assaulting him
tell my friend fi tell dem that I'm not at home
Hear they lookin' for me
While I'm over here lookin' at dem
I saw their wonderin' where I am
While
Absolutely, I always say that for
Their minds to interpret it, they have to
Draw a comparison and I always say
Even though it's very common, it's just a
More
closed it I know you closed it regardless
You a fucked up manager Cass'
Real managers are supposed to open
Doors for their artists
Well when it was time
Married men act totally different
When they by themselves, don't they?
You see them with their wife
"What's up Tony?"
"Hey man, how's everything
thousands of feet
And everyone who's with me now, I pay 'em to be
I'm in Germany with merch money in my lap
But all I think about is my mom is home with
field goal, go home and kick some rocks
They get distraught trying to switch the mark
I know where I put the shit down, my shit’s the bomb
Let’s go, death
showed up
Just like bounced checks, rubbin' their necks
And the sky turned the color of Pepto-Bismol
And the parking lots growled
And my old sports
change to fit in your block, so I'll make sure I cannot fit in a house
And I hate genres, fuck hip hop with their searching cop high top flip flops
In
their charts showed so much promise and progress
No sick days, no snow days, no unions, no taxes
And they wandered towards home, kings of their castles
obsession, the acceptance of me by my
father and mother, who I had not spoken to since I had left home.
One morning my manager Alex came in and broke up one
Winning away, winning home
Having learned from lost matches
Putting their football boots on
Now nothing is out of reach
Before stepping on the pitch
I been doin my own shit I don't need a manager
I been on this marathon they're running out of stamina
Want me out the picture but they only see
getting mama get their JC
Try and home invasions on robbers week
Kept running from the JCPD
'Cause the crime rate kept increasing weekly
But is that
watching that Rap City
Niggas used to say I rap shitty, funny
Now them niggas want a track with me
If my manager insults me again
I will be assaulting him
home.""
Well, I took a look at Facebook, there was propaganda everywhere.
Russia's IRA really decked it out, no part of our electorate was spared.
Their
at the bar
Try being on the road for 45 days straight
Road manager's the driver and myself plus 8
Other motherfuckers and their idio-sympatic
'Sop brought
major if I met all their demands
I could be a corp'ral into corp'ral punishment
Or the gen'ral manager of a large establishment
They pat some good
the mirrored room, "Set it up for everyone," he said
Then everyone commenced to do what they were doin' before he turned their heads
Then he walked up
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