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self-provoked - turned tables lyrics

[verse 1]
yo
put me inside the coffin, bobbin’
all of the other options
hoppin’ cliffs in the air, regardless
some of the biggest of them they talkin’
whether the audience is present
messin’ with a master from peasants
it’s like a lesson ‘bouta be learned
i swear i’m stacked up like tetris
i’m aimin’
the conversation’s kept short
developed an itch for stirrin’
son of a b-tch but earning sh-t
for writing upon a paper, laid, and realized i utilized my big mouth
it’s peep what i thought
from drownin’ in pay
but not what i bought
cause i wasn’t paid
not even a 9 to 5
i need to find mo’ time
to get by with ma’ mind
to allow me to find ma’ rhymes
to find a piece of this brain
the internet can sure drain
(disconnect disconnect disconnect)
all of a sudden the money is being the motive to hold us inside of a prison
egos will clash cuz of the cash
limit the gimmick, what is it that gives it a value?
burn it to ash
couldn’t believe the way they turned out, after a little dough
go slow homie
in this world we don’t know

[chorus]
to the bums in the alleys, from the san fernando valley
down to la, on skid row livin’ badly
turned tables, feelin’ unable
to the bums in the alleys, from the san fernando valley
down to la, on skid row livin’ badly
turned tables, feelin’ unable

[verse 2]
yo
all of the money and all of honey’s dip fast
i’m talking like i even had that
homie i’m a tad bad
i’m saving when i’m craving drinks and herb
on a night shift
not a 9 to 5 but i write sh-t they bitin’
see me with my little fan base, dropping “boom bap”
got you questioning your trap raps like “how we do that?”
you a trap rapper but never trap
no drugs in yo’ brown bag
faker than my bus p-ss
(hm)
not a full grown man but wise enough to know i don’t know nothin’
doggy, i’m rusty
and having conversations
haven’t been able to keep eye contact
maybe the herb that’s always making me fall back
or maybe i’m blaming it for not, being able to pinpoint
my flaws, but it disappears once i get my claws on the microphone
homie, i ain’t nothin’ special
catch me chillin’ in the streets with a 40
let’s go

[outro]
to the bums in the alleys, from the san fernando valley
down to la, on skid row livin’ badly
turned tables, feelin’ unable

- self provoked lyrics

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