Pryme - Sick Of Being Broke lyrics

[Verse 1: KXNG CROOKED] My homie said what up, I told him dawg I can't call it Digging into my pocket, ain't got a dollar in my wallet Got me drinking this vodka till I fall like an alcoholic I'm so sick of being broke I'm ready to vomit on the carpet I tried to find a job to avoid the thought of hurling But ever single person treating me worse than Donald Sterling Lying to my face, they said they ain't have no more positions Then hired the dude behind me because he had a different pigment I'm sick of being broke, man, f** a piece of a** See my mother needs some cash, n***a my bucket needs some gas My homies pushing dope, it's so tough for me to ask For some help I had to, they finally f** with me at last Told me they had some work they needed a n***a to Tennessee And if I get it there I'm getting a G off every key Penitentiary chances, y'all know how that work I'm driving to Tennessee rocking dockers and a church shirt [Hook: KXNG CROOKED & (Emanny)] I'm sick of being broke, I'm sick of being broke Last night I shared a tear, man, a n***a need some hope I'm running out of options, at the end of my rope I ain't a bad guy, I'm just sick of being broke (I'm not asking for everything I don't need much, I don't need much I'm just tired of struggling So sick now, I'm sick of being broke) [Verse 2: KXNG CROOKED] My homie said what up, I told him dawg I can't call it Hundreds in my pocket dollars all in my Prada wallet The way I'm popping bottles y'all would think I was alcoholic Woozy on the club couch, ready to vomit on they carpet I reminisce when I was on the block without a cent Digging into my pocket all a n***a got was cotton lint Telling my conscience I'm still honest because I pay my mama's rent This hustle never lasts forever, I still got some common sense Yeah, I'm getting money, but the walls are closing in Homies getting busted doing their time up in the pen Other homies can't be trusted dropping dimes on they friends I'm wondering if I'm next while I recline in my Benz So man rainy days, but this paper made it sunny At the Staples watching the Lakers hanging with a gang of hunnies And now that I'm making money haters wanna take it from me Paranoid I know them boys watching, man, I ain't a dummy I'm just sick of being broke [Hook]