Bills

Lyrics

[Intro: Illy & LunchMoney Lewis] Friday Flips, Friday Flips Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn, goddamn Goddamn this song Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man Let's give it a shot, Nic! [Chorus: LunchMoney Lewis] I got bills I got bills Bills, bills Work, work Bills, bills Goddamn, goddamn, work, work Bills Oh man, oh man, I got [Verse 1: Illy] Yeah Yeah, money in the trunk Pockets so deep, ain't dug in them for months (nope) Nah, Wednesday's still a hump (yep) Hungry as fuck, tummy like a krump Yeah, I been eating rappers for lunch Still eating rappers for lunch But these lightweights don't seem to get my calories up And I don't share drinks, yeah boom, no punch [Pre-Chorus: Illy] I got bills I gotta pay So I'm gon' work, work, work everyday (everyday, everday) I got mouths I gotta feed So I'm gon' make sure everybody eats I got bills [Verse 2: Illy] Look man, I could school bookworms (true) Every rapper I welcomed took Burns (true) Drop punted, jumped into this foot-first Truth hurts, I'm as Melbourne as hook turns Can't care less what the government says Demented, push back every time Telstra presses Had a paid plan, guess I messed it up Charlie, no XCX's Been three months of phone calls, SMS's Mailbox full, think they get the message And no matter how fuckin' read the text is I'm still not shook on collection letters Like, "Dear Mr Police, thanks for the fine Top of the garbage, back of the mind Take me to court, happily oblige See you in six months, actually psych" That was my way through a lot Now they pull me over, I'm payin' on the spot I give a fuck what the neighbourhood wants Want this bass down? Take it up with the cops What's the point if we can't get a vibe [?] when did sick cunts get marginalised? Man is magic, hit targets in life Just a part of the price and I got [Chorus: Illy & LunchMoney Lewis] Bills I gotta pay So I'm gon' work work work everyday (everyday, everyday) I got mouths I gotta feed So I'm gon' make sure everybody eats I got bills [Interlude: Illy] Yo, special shoutout to Nic Martin for making this beat something crazy. And all you rappers talkin' like you got no bills [Verse 3: Illy] You ain't here to talk shop, get the hell out Everyone so quick to say sellout But the back catalogue's full of sweet shit And a whole lotta pimpin' themselves in the mailout Still, they talkin' harder than club bouncers Dummies throw steel bars through the glass houses Till they tire them arms out, let your guard down Then we barge round and go Rick James all over your white couch We kill shit, and every [?] from the past vouches And I'm hardly for narcissists The same way these arseholes are hardly for artists Stay out the [?], they are the martyrs It's as if a decade ain't passed us It's as if my rhymes aren't so fat That you don't hear the net weight then gasp, mate, you asked Gone off-topic Half-cocked it, you scissor, bitch, I rock it This isn't for giggles and shits It's honest work, boy, got a pocket, 'cause I got bills [Chorus (Extended): LunchMoney Lewis & Illy] I, I, I got Bills I got bills Bills, work, work Bills, goddamn, goddamn Work, work Bills, oh man, oh man Look, I got bills Mama got bills (everybody got fuckin' bills, man) Your daddy got bills Your sister got bills (I'm just bein' honest about it) Your aunty got bills Your mama got bills (Friday Flips) Everybody got bills (Lunchbox, LunchMoney Lewis) Everybody got bills (whatever the cunt's fuckin' name is) Everybody got bills [Outro: Illy] Shit, why do I keep calling him Lunchbox, man?