[Verse 1]
House party, old stones, half-timbered walls
Just showed up with my mates, still sober let's catch up
Cough syrup, line, line line
Getting warmed up, getting warmed up
Getting ready to go face to face
Ready for the laced coke, the fake chicks, the lame jokes
And I laugh as my mate cries out: "same old, same old"
[Chorus]
Wanna have a taste of my middle cla** cla**
So it's not a waste of your middle cla** sa**
Your p**y's on my co*k Reagan-Thatcher style
Let's f** our way up, cause our cla** got ganged up
Wanna have a taste of my middle cla** cla**
So it's not a waste of your middle cla** sa**
Let's f** our way up (x3)
[Verse 2]
Black leggings, iPhone with a shattered screen
Nike Flyknit on your feet, itching to get lit
Drop of sweat messing up your thick, thick make-up
Setting up that basic b**h cred in all the boys' cribs
Who am I to judge I got nothing to give
I'm in the same sh** as you, I got nothing to live for
Scrapping, scrapping, scrapping nuggets of identity off the floor of society
Like a hungry fat lad at the closing time of KFC
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
What's your name? I dig your style it's unusual
You're an artist--What's your name?--I saw your work at Skopia
I like your tats they're really cool, I only have two
What's your job? you don't have one, of course you don't need to
How's depression going? I just knew you did have it
Welcome to the top of Maslow's Pyramid
Where weird sh** happens; up there it's paranoid
What do I do? I'm just bored
[Chorus]