Billy Woods - Bill Cosby lyrics

[Intro] I get tired of n***as talking about the "good old days" When they still owe me money Laughing at my boss' jokes when ain't a damn thing funny "Honey I'm home!" whisky in tummy Recliner feels like the throne Forty year old negro Al Bundy clone Renting three bedrooms in the colored section Three kids and not a day goes by that I don't wish I used protection Probably be paid in the shade dicking b**hes that ain't need agression Oh well! This Bud's for you Taste shots in the brew, brew with the pot Blunts with Newport smoke You f**in' kids better shut-up before I have to choke The living sh** Back and forth to the bathroom to piss By the end of the night incoherently mumbling Stumbling in the bedroom like "f** you b**h" Wake up and pretend nothing happened That's marital bliss But wait! The DVD's got special features And D.O.D got them Schwarzenegger heaters Choppers, egg beaters Arms long enough to box with G.O.D But the M.E. watch for blasphemers Roadside bomb blast cost your son his femurs Went to Walter Reed and he ain't want to see ya Came back to the block, hot boys talking that Benz or a Beamer Rims shining, chain body, you can smell that good reefer You're broke You're mad when they come home laughing off misdemeanours And they don't like you neither Call your daughter out a name like the average skeezer And their b**hes is bad, look like the Queen of Sheba When you drinking you get to thinking you might square them off like Little Caesars Your woman said "chill" but that hundred proof had you nice The negros lumped you, real they stabbed you with the knife Punctured lung, shattered eye socket and just for fun The young'uns ran your damn pockets (sirens) [Outro]