At first I started out real cool,
When you were taking me places I ain't never been,
But now, I’m getting comfortable,
And those places aren’t your own no more,
You're slowly making me pay for,
Things the false economy should be handling.
And now you ask to use my car?
Drive it all day and don't fill up the tank,
And you have the audacity to even come and step to me,
A pop-star artist without empathy until,
A world economy collapsed.
You trifling
(Much less fortunate type of brother)
Silly me
(I’m perfect, no need to think about the other)
I need a baller, when times get hard, someone who will help me out,
Instead of a scrub like you who reads Beauvoir and wants to shout,
Can you pay my bills?
Can you buy my mental health pills?
Wreck the world with automobiles?
If you did then maybe we could chill.
I can’t read Rousseau,
So, you and me are through,
Can you pay for police to kill?
Can you pay executives to steal?
Can you pay me my entitlement?
For mediocre poetry skills?