SLAINE - Pissed It All Away lyrics

[Intro:] Yeah, yeah I don't wanna be famous I just wanna be rich Just forget what my name is Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah [Verse 1:] My nose scabbing up from sniffing, I had enough And I had enough of rapping, I used to have it rough I was mad at f**in' life, thinking I was bad at luck I had a f**in' wife, I was always up at night In the hallways I would write with the vengeance And the engines of depression, they were revving Go to sleep at seven Wake up at whenever, it's my little slice of heaven This is who I dreamed of being ever since eleven Pills rattle in my script bottles and I love the sound Momma, I'm a go and get high - Ain't never coming down Momma I'm a rock star, momma I'm a fool On TV but I never took no drama in a school See me when I walk around, really you're the last Snap pictures of my fat face, want my autograph I should watch what I'm saying cause it's reaching the kids But I'm drunk all the time and I speak what I live [Hook:] I just wanna be rich, b**h I don't wanna be famous I don't believe in my own hype Or your lies either, I just know what the game is So when they lay me six feet deep Trust me, this is all to say How he came from the bottom and he rose to the top Then he pissed it all away [Verse 2:] Is he, is he dead? Is he drunk? Is he dizzy? Is he really illy illy as he says? Is he really Getting busy? Is he all around the world with a skizzy From the city that he reps? Yeah - He's still there getting sh**ty on the steps Juke you with the right, then he hit you with the left Hit you with a pistol Get you, split you ripping through your flesh It's habitual, it's visceral a**isting you with d**h I'm positioning the christening, a baby with the rabies It's a vicious thing, it's crazy Piss my life away on a lazy Sunday afternoon with a dime on the Patriots A hoodrich junkie with the mind of an atheist [Hook] [Verse 3:] So what's the make and the model of the pot you piss in? When your Cadillac is repo'ed, your chart position Is dropping low enough to cause a f**ing heart condition You're a middle aged overweight rock musician Narcissism is dark - It's a harsh condition Once the glory and people kissing your a** is missing Now your blood is in the water and the sharks are fishing Public tearing you apart with the stock precision See, once upon a time you had to cling to the fame And became another figure with a name Used to be a lay-up on your way up Now you're struggling to stay up Tell the player no one's bigger than the game So I wouldn't be the first and I'd hardly be the last Out in Hollywood on molly, but I'll probably be as trash Parlay with the rich with Bacardi in my gla** With the audience that left for a party in the past [Hook]