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I'm tired of bein' so mature
I wanna act like an asshole, punch all the fools
Who write me off then call me up when they need a haircut

They're lucky I don't put their shit on blast
They're lucky I have so much class

I guess a muse to you is to use
My name at your meetings
The profession you've chosen is wrong for you
Glad I got you laid
Looks like you're doin' well these days
Wait, I'm just kidding, can't you picture me grinning?
Oh, I'll just lie here useful for you
Yeah, I'll smile while you pull the trigger

You're lucky I don't put your shit on blast
You're lucky I have so much fucking class

I heard around the block you told them all I wrote you off
And if only it were true, then maybe they'd believe you
By the time your apology came through, I wanted nothing to do with you

Paranoia lives in my inbox

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