It seems nowadays friends step to me bogus and end up on my couch at night without notice it's cool to have a friend over every now and then but I gotta have my space and I don't wanna see their face like every single day of the week talk is cheap you betta find yourself another place to sleep it ain't my fault that ya moms got fed up and now you wanna come to my crib and wet my bed up you better find a job so you can get an apartment and you can save your crocodile tears don't even start with the sob stories I got enough from the other seven brothas in the den playin' Genesis damn I can't win at this seems like I'm gonna have to flip and tell those other brothas that they're gonna have to skip I've had it up to here with these lazy cats sleepin' on my couch and I'm tired of that [Chorus] People come to my house and kinda wonder where the squadron's at they're not gone they're just down at the laundrymat because they wear the same pairs of clothing I'm taking up crazy patience just holding my temper I'm about to start charging rent for every single brother that kicked it with my mother eating biscuits on Saturday morning like a family the minute they step it's like moms is crazy mad at me 'cause they're in my mother's room watching television I feel like giving 'em the boot and say the hell with 'em but if I give 'em the boot I'm not a friend though even though my room smells like dime bags of indo but I can't pretend like I haven't been peepin' it even mom knows that my brothas been sleepin' on my couch for weeks so your speeches fall flat sleepin' on my couch and I'm tired of that [Chorus] Maybe this was just my upbringing perhaps but I was taught that I shouldn't take seven day naps at other brothas' cribs like I don't have a home brothas on my couch so much there's like foam coming out the seams and a pair of jeans is missing from my closet I wonder why I even bother being friendly they're running my ass like the Indy 5000 they went and wrinkled my mother's blouse when they snuck downstairs for a midnight snack and ate the last slice of bread and a box of apple jacks then they hit the sack with the stereo blastin' and even little Tyson is fed up so I'm askin' you all to jet before I get upset and throw each and every one of you bums out on your back my house is a mess so step ya little pest who was sleepin' on my couch 'cause I'm tired of that [Chorus]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
