Illy - Bills lyrics

(originally by Lunchmoney Lewis) (Friday flips) Goddamn, Goddamn, Goddamn, Goddamn (Goddamn this song) Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man (Let's give it a shot) I got bills I got bills, bills, bills Work, work Bills, bills Goddamn, Goddamn Work, work Bills Oh man. oh man I got Yeah, yeah Money in the trunk Pockets so deep I ain't dug in them for months Nah, Wednesday's still a hump Hungry as f**, tummy like a krump Yeah I been eating rappers for lunch Still eating rappers for lunch But these lightweights don't seem to get my calories up And I don't share drinks Yeah boom, no punch I got bills I gotta pay So I'm gon' work work work everyday (everyday everday) I got mouths I gotta feed So I'm gon' make sure everybody eats I got bills Look man, I can school bookworms Every rapper I welcomed to burns Drop punted, jumped into this foot-first Truth hurts, I'm as Melbourne as hook turns Can't care less what the government says Demented, push back every time Telstra presses Had a paid plan, guess I messed it up Charlie, no XCX It's been three months of phone calls, SMS's Mailbox full, can't they get the message Yeah no matter how f**in' read the text is I'm still not shook on collection letters Like dear Mr. Police, thanks for the fine Top of the garbage, back of the mind Take me to court, happily oblige See you in six months, actually psych That was my way through a lot Now they pull me over, I'm payin' on the spot I give a f** what the neighbourhood wants Want this ba** down? Take it up with the cops What's the point if we can't get a life Since when did sick c*nts get marginalised? Man is magic, hit targets in life Just a part of the price and I got Bills I gotta pay So I'm gon' work work work everyday (everyday everyday) I got mouths I gotta feed So I'm gon' make sure everybody eats I got bills Yo, special shoutout to Nic Martin for making this beat something crazy And all you rappers talking like you don't got bills You ain't here to talk shop, get the hell out Everyone so quick to say sellout With the back catalogues full of sweet sh** And a whole lotta pimpin' themselves in the mailout Still, the talkin' harder than club bounces Dummies throw steel bras through the gla** houses Till they tire their Mums out, let your guard down Then we barge round and go Rick James all over your white couch k** sh**, and then we spa from the past vouchers And I'm hardly for narcissists The same way these arseholes are hardly for artists Stay out, and we denied, stay out tomatoes It's as if a decade ain't pa**ed us It's as if my rhymes aren't so fat That you don't hear the net weight then gasp Mate you asked Gone off-topic, half-co*ked it You scissor b**h, I rock it This isn't for giggles and sh**s It's honest work, boy gotta pocket Cause I got bills I got bills, bills, bills Work, work Bills, bills Goddamn, Goddamn Work, work Bills Oh man, oh man Look I got bills Mama got bills (Everybody got f**in' bills) Your Daddy got bills Your sister got bills (I'm just bein' honest about it) Your aunty got bills Mama got bills (Friday flips) Everybody got bills (Lunchbox, LunchMoney Lewis, whatever the c*nt's f**in' name is) Everybody got bills Everybody got bills (sh** why do I keep calling him Lunchbox?)