Split Prophets - Drop Of Poison lyrics

[Hook (Tom Waits):] I like my town With a little drop of poison Nobody knows They're lining up to go insane [Datkid] Yeah, Yo, Yo It's just another day without a dollar I'm praying out to God, but He ain't listening to what I'm saying when I holler I'm trying to do my music and be making money proper But I don't want to sell my soul to snakes wearing collars Be a victim of the industry; get raped for my honour Want to make it look like I'm getting famous and hotter I'd rather do it my own way and do it proper Learn to work hard 'til I'm a scholar Yeah, sometimes I don't live right I get drunk and hit guys Terrorise people wearing their jeans skin-tight Naughty by nature so at times that's how I live life I forget to think right then wonder why it brings fights But still, deep down inside, I know I should think right Develop my sk** until it goes from big to king-size I hope you're prepared; I'm here without an invite Giving you an insight on how the f** I live life [HOOK] [Hi Res] Come check my ways, there's breys with crazed faces Jakies, fakes, racists, rapists, Babe [?] Laces make chases, chases stay hating Blazing days waste to tame by brain raging It's like we're trained to make our days wages Plates get scraped stainless breys will blaze vagrant Blades and aim flamers, taking change changes f** their wars, it's fraud to make papers Corpses stain pavements, courts'll frame cases Ought to make payments, playing the same game as The people stood in front of them, criminals run this country Men and women working under them, feels like I'm under ten Thousand tons of pressure so I burn the pain to nothingness Ain't nothing better when you're stressing, getting wet in the weather Depressed and letting it wreck ya You gotta keep your head straight, stay awake, and never let up [HOOK] [Hi Res & Datkid] Yo, we jam in places where there's piggies always close by Never keep a closed eye in case a copper roll by Trying to claim we stole bikes, then search us with those old lies You've got no lives; f** off, piggie, go die (ha) Try to confiscate my weed and my spraypaint Take my name, age, and address to do a [?] Mate, it's a crazed state where the papers made many wage slates Save pennies, make change is my motto, cotched in the grotto with a bottle And a big ziggie lurking round in the shadows of sin city Brisk, often sh**ty, it's grimy, grim, gritty Where police show no pity for kiddies – [the kiddie's witty] Sick kids will stick you with shivs for six guineas Yeah, sh**, really, but I love it, though Spit a bit of poison on these dirty roads, bro, then I'm running home [HOOK]