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"Sick Of Being Broke" lyrics by CROOKED I
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"Sick Of Being Broke"
[feat. Emanny]

[Verse 1 - KXNG CROOKED:]
My homie said what up, I told him dawg I can't call it
Digging into my pocket, ain't got a dollar in my wallet
Got me drinking this vodka till I fall like an alcoholic
I'm so sick of being broke I'm ready to vomit on the carpet
I tried to find a job to avoid the thought of hurling
But ever single person treating me worse than Donald Sterling
Lying to my face, they said they ain't have no more positions
Then hired the dude behind me because he had a different pigment
I'm sick of being broke, man, fuck a piece of ass
See my mother needs some cash, nigga my bucket needs some gas
My homies pushing dope, it's so tough for me to ask
For some help I had to, they finally fuck with me at last
Told me they had some work they needed a nigga to Tennessee
And if I get it there I'm getting a G off every key
Penitentiary chances, y'all know how that work
I'm driving to Tennessee rocking dockers and a church shirt

[Hook - KXNG CROOKED (Emanny):]
I'm sick of being broke, I'm sick of being broke
Last night I shared a tear, man, a nigga need some hope
I'm running out of options, at the end of my rope
I ain't a bad guy, I'm just sick of being broke
(I'm not asking for everything
I don't need much, I don't need much
I'm just tired of struggling
So sick now, I'm sick of being broke)

[Verse 2 - KXNG CROOKED:]
My homie said what up, I told him dawg I can't call it
Hundreds in my pocket dollars all in my Prada wallet
The way I'm popping bottles y'all would think I was alcoholic
Woozy on the club couch, ready to vomit on they carpet
I reminisce when I was on the block without a cent
Digging into my pocket all a nigga got was cotton lint
Telling my conscience I'm still honest because I pay my mama's rent
This hustle never lasts forever, I still got some common sense
Yeah, I'm getting money, but the walls are closing in
Homies getting busted doing their time up in the pen
Other homies can't be trusted dropping dimes on they friends
I'm wondering if I'm next while I recline in my Benz
So man rainy days, but this paper made it sunny
At the Staples watching the Lakers hanging with a gang of hunnies
And now that I'm making money haters wanna take it from me
Paranoid I know them boys watching, man, I ain't a dummy
I'm just sick of being broke


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