I ain't made a dollar in a minute
Got a bank account, nothing in it
Been a while since I've seen triple digits
If they're handing out awards for being stressed, I'ma win it
Got a place, got a girl, got a car
So try and tell me that it really ain't hard
You get the feeling you ain't moving real far
When the place you wanna be isn't where you really are
Maybe I should count my blessings, not my struggles
I go to work, I've been staying out of trouble
Standing on two feet, but I stumble
It happens more and more, got me sitting pretty humble
It's one step forward, two back again
Still tripping in the place where I've always been
Feel sorry for myself and I'm tired of it
Can't get it out my head and it's doing me in
(Sick of being broke boy)
I don't care about a benz, give a f*ck about a drop top
(If I was counting notes boy)
I'd be rollin in a cheap ass car, but it's paid off
(Sick of being broke boy)
Won't catch me in the back of the club getting faded
(If I was counting notes boy)
Wouldn't worry at the end of the month if I made rent
Taking my time just to focus
I do my best keeping awake
I don't know if you can relate
But it's hard to sleep when you feel so f*cking hopeless
But I bottle up these emotions
They build until I can't see through the commotion
My head is attacking itself with no motive
It's got me convinced the solution is
Just give up, get f*cked up
Pour that shit, empty that cup
So far down, down on my luck
So far down, down on my luck
Just give up, get f*cked up
Pour that shit, empty that cup
So far down, down on my luck
So far down, down on my luck, ay, ay
(Sick of being broke boy)
I don't care about a benz, give a f*ck about a drop top
(If I was counting notes boy)
I'd be rollin in a cheap ass car, but it's paid off
(Sick of being broke boy)
Won't catch me in the back of the club getting faded
(If I was counting notes boy)
Wouldn't worry at the end of the month if I made rent
(Sick of being broke boy)
I don't care about a benz, give a f*ck about a drop top
(If I was counting notes boy)
I'd be rollin in a cheap ass car, but it's paid off
(Sick of being broke boy)
Won't catch me in the back of the club getting faded
(If I was counting notes boy)
Wouldn't worry at the end of the month if I made rent
desmo. - Stress Lyrics
desmo. - Stress Lyrics
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I ain't made a dollar in a minute
Got a bank account, nothing in it
Been a while since I've seen triple digits
If they're handing out awards for being stressed, I'ma win it
Got a place, got a girl, got a car
So try and tell me that it really ain't hard
You get the feeling you ain't moving real far
When the place you wanna be isn't where you really are
Maybe I should count my blessings, not my struggles
I go to work, I've been staying out of trouble
Standing on two feet, but I stumble
It happens more and more, got me sitting pretty humble
It's one step forward, two back again
Still tripping in the place where I've always been
Feel sorry for myself and I'm tired of it
Can't get it out my head and it's doing me in
(Sick of being broke boy)
I don't care about a benz, give a f*ck about a drop top
(If I was counting notes boy)
I'd be rollin in a cheap ass car, but it's paid off
(Sick of being broke boy)
Won't catch me in the back of the club getting faded
(If I was counting notes boy)
Wouldn't worry at the end of the month if I made rent
Taking my time just to focus
I do my best keeping awake
I don't know if you can relate
But it's hard to sleep when you feel so f*cking hopeless
But I bottle up these emotions
They build until I can't see through the commotion
My head is attacking itself with no motive
It's got me convinced the solution is
Just give up, get f*cked up
Pour that shit, empty that cup
So far down, down on my luck
So far down, down on my luck
Just give up, get f*cked up
Pour that shit, empty that cup
So far down, down on my luck
So far down, down on my luck, ay, ay
(Sick of being broke boy)
I don't care about a benz, give a f*ck about a drop top
(If I was counting notes boy)
I'd be rollin in a cheap ass car, but it's paid off
(Sick of being broke boy)
Won't catch me in the back of the club getting faded
(If I was counting notes boy)
Wouldn't worry at the end of the month if I made rent
(Sick of being broke boy)
I don't care about a benz, give a f*ck about a drop top
(If I was counting notes boy)
I'd be rollin in a cheap ass car, but it's paid off
(Sick of being broke boy)
Won't catch me in the back of the club getting faded
(If I was counting notes boy)
Wouldn't worry at the end of the month if I made rent
Got a bank account, nothing in it
Been a while since I've seen triple digits
If they're handing out awards for being stressed, I'ma win it
Got a place, got a girl, got a car
So try and tell me that it really ain't hard
You get the feeling you ain't moving real far
When the place you wanna be isn't where you really are
Maybe I should count my blessings, not my struggles
I go to work, I've been staying out of trouble
Standing on two feet, but I stumble
It happens more and more, got me sitting pretty humble
It's one step forward, two back again
Still tripping in the place where I've always been
Feel sorry for myself and I'm tired of it
Can't get it out my head and it's doing me in
(Sick of being broke boy)
I don't care about a benz, give a f*ck about a drop top
(If I was counting notes boy)
I'd be rollin in a cheap ass car, but it's paid off
(Sick of being broke boy)
Won't catch me in the back of the club getting faded
(If I was counting notes boy)
Wouldn't worry at the end of the month if I made rent
Taking my time just to focus
I do my best keeping awake
I don't know if you can relate
But it's hard to sleep when you feel so f*cking hopeless
But I bottle up these emotions
They build until I can't see through the commotion
My head is attacking itself with no motive
It's got me convinced the solution is
Just give up, get f*cked up
Pour that shit, empty that cup
So far down, down on my luck
So far down, down on my luck
Just give up, get f*cked up
Pour that shit, empty that cup
So far down, down on my luck
So far down, down on my luck, ay, ay
(Sick of being broke boy)
I don't care about a benz, give a f*ck about a drop top
(If I was counting notes boy)
I'd be rollin in a cheap ass car, but it's paid off
(Sick of being broke boy)
Won't catch me in the back of the club getting faded
(If I was counting notes boy)
Wouldn't worry at the end of the month if I made rent
(Sick of being broke boy)
I don't care about a benz, give a f*ck about a drop top
(If I was counting notes boy)
I'd be rollin in a cheap ass car, but it's paid off
(Sick of being broke boy)
Won't catch me in the back of the club getting faded
(If I was counting notes boy)
Wouldn't worry at the end of the month if I made rent
Writer: Duncan Cook
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid