9-5ers Anthem

[Verse 1] Zoom in to the fuming of an aggravated breed Via the study of post-adolescent agitated seeds Half the patients wasted self prior to Commencement So I focus on the urban Oxygen samples, the half that made it breathe They sold Pompeii impression, waste infections And twelve steps to lesson Cretins swiftly tippy toe on hard to swallow, barter concepts The give-it get-it, never let it self passport our stubbornness Martyrs talks money causes in a harvesting Spartacus And so on I've thrown long Hail Mary bombs Toward cookie-cutter Mother Natures bedazzled synthetic fabrics Life treats the peasants like They tried to fuck his woman while he slept inside Well they're merely chasing perfectionist emblems When the clock strikes nine I'll be waking with the best of routine caffeine team players For the cycle of it Under a dusted angel harp string Big Brother is watching My odometer like buzzard to fallen elk, talking stealth We got babies, rubber stamps, and briefcase parts We on some door-to-door now Order ten dollars or more, we'll shove it down your throat for free I'll sacrifice my inborn tendencies For copper pennies for one commanding "Gimme that" So we can retain baby fat Make the biter snake bedlam Holocaust freak, heckle shiesty brain headroom shaped planet Make a move, pause, make a move break cannon Bent barrel one eight zero, U-Turn, squeeze, end it It's on like it's never been It's bleeding well It's bigger than a breadbox It corrodes my leaky finance I'll take my seat atop the Brooklyn Bridge With a Coke and a bag of chips To watch a thousand lemmings plummet just because The first one slipped Sometimes I laugh at victory, kissing these little question marks I tend to underestimate my average Just another bastard savage Someday you'll all eat out of my cold hand Cuz every dog has its day At which point, I'll pull it away [Hook] Now we the American working population Hate the fact that eight hours a day Is wasted on chasing the dream of someone that isn't us And we may not hate our jobs But we hate jobs in general That don't have to do with fighting our own causes We the American working population Hate the nine-to-five day-in day-out When we'd rather be supporting ourselves By being paid to perfect the pastimes That we have harbored based solely on the fact That it makes us smile if it sounds dope [Verse 2] It's the year of the silkworm Everything I built burned yesterday Let's display the purpose that these stilts serve Elevate the spreading of the silk germ Trying to weave a web but all that I believe in is dead Nah brother, it's the year of the jackal Saddle up on high horse My torch forced Polaris embarrassed (Uh) Shackle up the hassle by the dooming legend marriage I bought some new sneakers I just hope my legacy matches It's the year of the landshark Dry as sand, parched, damn get these men some water They're out there being slaughtered In meaningless wars so you don't have to bother And can sit and soak the idiotbox trying to fuck their daughters Man it's the year of the Orphan Seated adjacent to the firefly circling the torches on your porches Trying to guard the fortress of a king they've never seen or met But all are trained to murder at the first sign of a threat Maybe it's the year of the waterbug Cockroach utter thug specimen Fury spawned from dreaming of your next of kin I'm still dealing with this mess I'm in I've been the object of your ridicule You've been a bitch lieutenant God, it's the year of the underpaid employee Spittin' forty plus a week And tryin' to rape Earth on my off time You bored dizzy, I can't keep myself busy enough So you can run, run, run And I'mma let you think you won (Everybody!) [Hook] We the American working population Hate the fact that eight hours a day Is wasted on chasing the dream of someone that isn't us And we may not hate our jobs But we hate jobs in general That don't have to do with fighting our own causes We the American working population Hate the nine to five day-in day-out But we'd rather be supporting ourselves By being paid to perfect the pastimes That we have harbored based solely on the fact That it makes us smile if it sounds dope [Outro] Fumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen Pour myself a cup of ambition and Yawn and stretch and my life is a mess and If I never make it home today, God bless Fumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen Pour myself a cup of ambition and Yawn and stretch and my life is a mess and If I never make it home today, God bless