Lyrics The Workin Man - Marlon Craft, Oswin Benjamin, Chris Rivers

The Workin Man

I’m tired of these cats who was asleep tryin' rookie me
I been in the league, you just wasn’t lookin, B
I’m tired of actin like these guys half as good as me
So I don’t come off unlikeable, that’s the pussy me
I’m done with that guy
I don’t give a fuck about you rap guys
I ain’t talkin' rappers, talkin' rap guys
Who sit at home on they phone and blast guys on Twitter
When they ain’t even been baptized in the river of truth I was tossed into
Told sink or swim, I grew fins, fuck y’all gon' do wit me?
Y’all type to want get-well cards when you stub yo toe
Y’all type to see fuck shit and be like «He gettin money tho»
Fuck outta here
I’m the Circle Line boat, I move around my peers
And all the life I breathed into New York couldn’t save it from this covid
Guess we should all be more humble and it start right here
They gon' ride the wave
Imma rock the boat
They got lots to say
It ain’t logical
I done paved the way
So your stock could grow
Shhh, the workin man comin', shut the fuck up homie
Shut the fuck up, homie
(Shut the fuck up, homie)
I need my pension
Feed my brethren
Shhh, the workin man comin'
Throwin punches, I ain’t duckin
Took my body blows to highly homes suffered
In the silent smilin out in public
My kindness been they crutches
The black big Spanish I had enough
This nice guy only finish last when he fuckin'
See I been through a lot
I gave these niggas Juilliard Shakur
Now they dealin' with red wing Jersey Pac
All that sweet shit out the window
Vanilla ice and rappers over balconies
I shook em down for everything they got, don’t push me
It concern my wife or my family I turn from Kirk Franklin to
Yeah that’s how it’s lookin
All that nigga work been overlooked
And before they book me I might be in bookings
They been trippin on us just to see the way we fall
The man you don’t fuck with?
The man that got his back against the wall
For my people I put it all on the line
So don’t make a nigga show you how he learned to survive
On God
I put 10,000 hours
Pen pal to powwow
Was sent down to get proud, not bend down to cowards
Only bend down wit dollars in a duffel
I got em in a struggle
I put two and two together and my product only double
And niggas when they love you but they focus on the profits like the devil
And they always got rebuttals
I’m befuddled how you fumble when my balls is in yo mouth
Got a couple real niggas that when shit was goin south
They still kept my name away from all the doubts so I love you
I’m just tryna be the workin man
Anything is certain, it’s that serpent’s land
Write us how you circle if you servin lamb
That’s why I’m the goat
I only speak in quotes
The absolute least I can do is the most
Always feeling hopeless is concealing that
You hope that even when we broken it don’t always mean we broke
Stop wavin, bring a boat
They gon' ride the wave
Imma rock the boat
They got lots to say
It ain’t logical
I done paved the way
So your stock could grow
Shhh, the workin man comin', shut the fuck up homie
Shut the fuck up, homie
(Shut the fuck up, homie)
I need my pension
Feed my brethren
Shhh, the workin man comin'
Uh huh, I’m like a bat signal for the real niggas
This for Sambo from the field, niggas
I see you tap dancing for appeal, nigga
I was wit Kaep when he kneeled, nigga
And still, that’s why the pen strokes and the condolences
Hoein for the views, nigga, nobody notices
It’s only for the views, nah, this what the focus is
High off fame still up in the dopes
It’s just the clickbait crack rock
Get yo head in, I’m David in the shoe of Goliath, tryna fit in
I’m cool off that, I got the U-haul pack
I got time to go back and forth, where it do all that
I got the scoop on rap, I paint the Yukon black
And hit the whole game up like 2Pac back
Nigga say that shit, fuck yo Maybach, bitch
Until we see we ain’t free yet, you ain’t that rich
I speak so Gil Scott-Heron wearing a Teflon vest can removing my flesh
While proclaiming we oppressed by the press
Plain bloody knuckles wit infinity’s best
Christopher Wallace, David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest
Cooler than the Digable Planets cassette on Tourettes
The babbles crack, lobster’s free, ey
Gettin cabin fever carrying cottage cheese they milk us for cheap
To get a beef from rap he needs to rock title of Yeezy
You act good to the good people
Hood to the hood people
I mix matching
I may now acknowledge when he miss practice
The pump’s dyslexic
Westside gone ad libs
Paintin' my youths canvas
Slain for the news cameras
Hashtag for a fragment then back to who’s boobs flashing
Don’t need to drop vinyls to drop science
Credit to this gangster, I drop violence
Trigger fingers mixed with methamphetamine and anger they pop Mollys
When the depression and recession’s here and Tia and Tamara double pile-drive me
But when you close to clockin' out the work start payin' off
They gon' ride the wave
I’mma rock the boat
They got lots to say
It ain’t logical
I done paved the way
So your stock could grow
Shhh, the workin man comin', shut the fuck up homie
Shut the fuck up, homie
(Shut the fuck up, homie)
I need my pension
Feed my brethren
Shhh, the workin man comin'