Lyrics Well - Token

Well

Yeah
Lot of folks want a check off me
Not a lot wanna check on me
Talkin' to me like, «Where's my cut?»
Like I got treasure chests on me
Talkin' to me like, «Damn, you changed»
Talkin' to me one mile a minute
Then they ask me for a picture, though
And wonder why I don’t smile in it
Ayy, put on my hoodie then put on my coat
Cover my face up so you didn’t know
See me in public with head to my toes
Probably me, you should leave me alone
Spent the whole week in the booth all alone
My manager want a song that is happy
Back to the lab to rewrite what I wrote
Maybe I cannot do this shit alone
Maybe I need me a ghostwriter too
Write me a song that I probably should use
Happy-go-lucky and sing me a tune
Maybe can help me with choruses too
Lord knows that isn’t my strong suit
Lord knows I’m lackin' attributes
Lord knows every time my manager call me
Motherfucker, I got this attitude
The worst part of doing things all by yourself
Is when they fall, you cannot blame nobody else
I could be on the floor and dying by myself
And still be too embarrassed, askin' for your help
I can’t complain, but if I could I probably would
So in that case, I’m doin' well, I’m doin' well, I’m doin' well
I’m 'bout to fall but when I pick up on your call
I’m doin' well, I’m doin' well
I’m smart enough to write this song
But not enough to go market it
Rich enough not to worry 'bout it
But not enough to let mama quit
I’m wise enough to know who I am
But not enough to know what I can be
Loud enough for them to hear me out
But not enough for them to understand me
I’m proud enough to brag all the time
But not enough to forget the flaws
Loyal enough to buy my friends a meal
But not enough to give my friend a job
I’m liked enough not to get kicked out
But not enough for them to invite me
Cool enough to bring a chick back
But not enough for her to really like me
Ayy, free shit, free shit, all around my house, just free shit
I’m famous enough to get shit for free
But not enough to get the shit I like
Reliable enough to kill the show
But not enough to show up on time
Believe in myself enough to grind
But not enough to not fucking sign
Ayy, tell the label I need a crib
With a tennis court for mommy and a bed for my bitch
Both of 'em know my life is all up in the air
Right now, this could be the biggest I get
So right now, tell my manager bring in the paperwork
I know that it ain’t about the money
Sure, I know how the paper work
I know how the fame work
I know how the dues work
I’m a success now, but still could be a loser
The worst part of doing things all by yourself
Is when they fall, you cannot blame nobody else
I could be on the floor and dying by myself
And still be too embarrassed, askin' for your help
I can’t complain, but if I could I probably would
So in that case, I’m doin' well, I’m doin' well, I’m doin' well
I’m 'bout to fall but when I pick up on your call
I’m doin' well, I’m doin' well