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letra de hate my job - spose

[verse 1: spose]
i used to bus tables, i’m able with wetted rags
i used to boil lobsters and toss ’em in netted bags
sh-t, i used to get chicks quivering quick
when they would smell me up in wells after delivering fish
everyday same jam, kyle, jim and dan
years ’til we’re finished, fixated on that minute hand
never been canned, or even bagged like the grocers
but i’ve never been promoted except upon posters
rarely ever working on a sober mind
i’m hoping for a moment that i’m not in need of overtime
jolly john advertise a sign and drive
nope, still too broke, me i fear it’s nine-to-five
for my entire time alive
i strive to stay occupied
methods, i got various
i’m revitalized when i’m back into the chariot
and then i’m whipping home, alone with my sickened dome
iphone cl!ck and lit, see my bic fl!cker on
tires by michelin, route 1 north
if you relate to what i say, dude, come forth
you rolled in late, you’re hearing it
your boss, he’s on his period
what a joker, why so serious

[chorus: spose & cam groves]
i put on my hat, i put on my shoes
another day, same sh-t, nothing new
you fear it’s work, work ’til you drop
now if you hate your job say (yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)

i put on my hat, i put on my shoes
another day, same sh-t, nothing new
you fear it’s work, work ’til you drop
now if you hate your job say (yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)

verse ii: cam groves
six in the morning roll out of the old sack
it’s a brand new day of the same old cr-p
i stumble around looking for clothes on the floor
grab my old hat then i stroll out the door
on my way to work driving reckless (reckless)
coffee and a camel light for breakfast, check this
a nine-to-five for me would be heaven
yeah, i got a nine-to-five, gotta be there at seven
doesn’t matter, got my ladder climbing on a roof
but i’d rather just be babbling and rhyming in a booth
i am more than the truth, this is living proof
you can tell by the mud on the bottom of my boots
do work, got it written on the daily planner
whether it’s a mic in my hand, paint brush, or a hammer
my timberlands are steel-toed
my collar is blue
do what you got to do to make a dollar or two
yeah, i’m talking to you
’cause life really ain’t much
more than swinging a hammer or slinging a paint brush
got the backwood rolled before i dash home
as i dip back to a six-pack and back roads

[chorus: cam groves & spose]
i put on my hat, i put on my shoes
another day, same sh-t, nothing new
you fear it’s work, work ’til you drop
now if you hate your job say (yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)

i put on my hat, i put on my shoes
another day, same sh-t, nothing new
you fear it’s work, work ’til you drop
now if you hate your job say (yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)

[outro: mike b]
yeah, spizzy spose
what’s good, man, it’s your boy, mike b
just woke up, man, where’d y’all leave me last night, man?
f-ckin’ woke up in a ditch, sh-t-faced
it’s 8:10 in the night, i got the 303 with me
whatever though
yo, i figured i’d smoke some chronic, but i checked the bag and we smoked it all, so uh…

- spose

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