| And now blow your money
|
| And there goes a hundred
|
| And now blow your money
|
| And there goes another, there goes another hundred
|
| Blow your money
|
| There goes a hundred
|
| And now blow your money
|
| If you do it my way, you get faded when life plummets
|
| If you are going south, you’re headed for Southern Comfort
|
| Although it can push you to jumping or acting the dummy
|
| Like spending all of your money
|
| 'Cause you just got made redundant
|
| But retail therapy’s the only one for your budget
|
| So Dr. Denim is the only therapist you’re funding
|
| Besides, he lets you prescribe any drug that you like
|
| To get high as the rent you need to cover
|
| Even though at home, you’ve got a lady missing your loving
|
| And you’ve got sons you need to lead like Marcus Mumford
|
| And you’ve got bills to pay, but you need a real escape
|
| So you hit the town hard as punches from Muhammad
|
| One bag, two pills, three shots before leaving yours
|
| By five, your face is in the gutter
|
| But you’ll be back next week, throwing your hands up in the club
|
| Like 'woo' girls from How I Met Your Mother, tryna cover the pain
|
| Bounce, all my people feeling down
|
| If you’re loving the sound then let me see you get around me
|
| You got sorrows you need to drown? |
| Get around me
|
| And let’s try and pretend this shit is astounding, huh
|
| Everybody bounce, all my people feeling down
|
| If you’re loving the sound then let me see you get rowdy
|
| Buy another round now, you should get rowdy
|
| And let’s try and pretend this shit is astounding, uh-huh
|
| And now blow your money
|
| And there goes a hundred
|
| And now blow your money
|
| And there goes another, there goes another hundred
|
| Blow your money
|
| There goes a hundred
|
| And now blow your money
|
| And there goes another, there goes another hundred
|
| Blow your money
|
| I dunno what I’m scared of
|
| All I know is it’s got me scared off
|
| I dunno what i’m scared of
|
| All I know is it’s got me
|
| Sometimes I feel so low, I can’t even get out the pad
|
| My mind turns into a prison like it is Alcatraz
|
| Twenty-five to life here, there’s no light here
|
| Need a buzz like Lightyear to break me out, stat
|
| Take me to infinity to escape off the map
|
| I used to use imagination 'til my age crushed that
|
| Brain’s chemically imbalanced, that or I’m just damaged
|
| Either way, happy thoughts now come in a beige cap
|
| May snap at any moment, those who know me can vouch for this
|
| Weigh my problems in weed, say, «About an ounce for this»
|
| Bi-monthly for this bipolar, need to try something
|
| This shit’s getting older than my favourite line
|
| You know the one, «Really, I’m fine, I’m fine»
|
| When realistically, that’s me saying, «I'm lying, I’m dying», but
|
| Got too much pride to cry for assistance
|
| So I party all the time, Rick James, bitch
|
| Bounce, all my people feeling down
|
| If you’re loving the sound then let me see you get around me
|
| You got sorrows you need to drown, get around me
|
| And let’s try and pretend this shit is astounding, huh
|
| Everybody bounce, all my people feeling down
|
| If you’re loving the sound then let me see you get rowdy
|
| Buy another round now, you should get rowdy
|
| And let’s try and pretend this shit is astounding, uh-huh
|
| And now blow your money
|
| And there goes a hundred
|
| And now blow your money
|
| And there goes another, there goes another hundred
|
| Blow your money
|
| And there goes a hundred
|
| And now blow your money
|
| And there goes another, there goes another hundred
|
| Blow your money |