Who the f*ck thought it'd be good
To give me responsibilities
I can't even find my f*cking debit card half of the time
I'm holding up the line while I rifle some fives
People starting to crowd and I'm getting side-eye
So I bounce see you later goodbye
My car's old as shit and it's ready to quit
And so am I I never even get to spit
All these thoughts that twist into words on print
Line the baskets in my bathroom in the home I'm in
Who the f*ck thought it'd be good
To give me responsibilities
When I was just five my father pulled me aside
Said I had to strive if I want to survive
But I never stopped to wonder why I had to try
So I don't fly high I just coast on by
But I'm sick of it (Yep) I'm a hypocrite
Cannot live with it (Yep) in the thick of it (Yep)
Got a fetish for perfection it's hard without reception
I get so damn defensive it's hard to see my message
Underrated over-hated overworked and extra jaded
Underpaid it's understated if it's paid it's waiting tables
Compensation is my goal til this job is automated
Can't pay into Medicaid but I'm extra-medicated
I did the thing and went to university
Got a degree hooked into an entry
Everyone sees a lack of opportunities
Can't blame me for wanting to be lazy