Tired Lyrics - Whitey Ford Sings The Blues - Everlast

We can go, soul for soul, over mic control 

Kid you can touch me with a ten foot pole 

And I even made the devil sell me his jewels 

He was out to cold mock me, and play you for fools 

Kid, you know the rules, must be smoking (?two for booze?) 

Try to dis me on the low, got to be a psycho 

That's alright though, you know you won't see me shaking 

I'm out to the blow the spot on who's real and who's faking 

Who's giving, who's taking, who's living, who's starving 

Dis me on the mic, it's time for headstone carving 

And epitaph writing, I strike you like lightning 

Dissolve you like powder, so turn it up louder 

Go on, pump the wattage, get the cheese, buy a cottage 

I like mean streets, I like Spanish freaks 

I like Korean bar-be -que, I like old school beats 

Chorus: 

And I'm sick of all the shit that's dropping 

And I'm tired of all the lip that's popping 

And all the wack attitudes people copping 

I'm only tryin' to get a few heads bobbing 

(Repeat) 

It go bang bang boogie, I'm sick like a loogie 

I'm w(e)iser than Bud, I'm thicker than blood 

I'm moldin' in time, moldin' from the divine 

How could you be so bold, to think that you'll take mine 

I'm Cash like Johnny, it's the highway man 

And I'm walkin' this line the best way I can 

With my farmer's tan and my bloodshot eyes 

I ain't body no one, I ain't dropped no pies 

With the mothers from the gutters 

I'm 'bout to explode, and blow the spot 

For now, but the gun, he'll roll 

Like artillery shells, been from heaven to hell 

And I'm say a little prayer for every rapper that fell 

Chorus