Lucy Camp's new project, S'MORES VOL. 1, with 13 tracks created via the CampXO Patreon on a limited edition compact disc. Includes exclusive instrumentals, the exclusive 1" "Toon Luz" Button pin and the traditional CAMPXO die-cut vinyl sticker. We ship internationally.
Includes unlimited streaming of S'Mores Vol. 1
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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lyrics
Hook: Staying up late
Playing the game
I hustle night and day
I hustle my life away
That’s how you play
That’s how you stay
in this Hustle night and day
You hustle your life away
Verse 1:
Shouts to the chicks that are working a 9-5
I’m working a 9-6
Barely got time to write
Feel I’ve been working my life to bits
If I don’t put time aside
Then what does it matter if I can spit?
The kinda work ethic idolized
By everybody that likes the rich
I’m a survivalist
And i’ve been microchipped
Cuz how the hell can a sane person
do this type of shit
Without the help of addy, percocets, or vicodin
And now my health is actually worse than how it might’ve been
A million rivals and they all look like my twin
Get em a knife and bet they’d try to skin me alive for rent
My humble opinion is that if I don’t get right my life will end
And I’m a dumb idiot not to decide the price that I will spend
So I pretend
To know why and when
Sit in my office, go to my home, and then arrive again
Picking my pockets, hoping a bone will be what I can get
Until I’m content
Or Till I regret
Verse 2:
Pondering all the possibilities
Like what if I quit right now then walked right out the building would I feel relief or feel defeat?
What if they say they can raise my pay? Would it fulfill my needs?
And what if I make the same mistakes and waste my skills to be
Someone I’m not, someone that’s somewhat a fraud, someone officially
Stuck in a spot, youngin becoming a boss but I just feel complete
Numbers of shock, whenever juggling lots over the billions weeks
Running the job, now when I run it’s a jog and I can’t feel my knees
Trouble ahead, wish I could jump into bed, missin the pillow sheets
Fun isn’t meant for
Someone in debt
It bewilders me
Because a percentage of all the funds that I get
Don’t go into me
So what can be said? Luckily nothing I guess
Don’t know sympathy
So I suffer silently
like a puppet tied to string
I can’t move my eyes to blink
And don’t use my mind to think
Expiring
I must continue to do what makes it so that
I can rap and I can sing
Which tonight would be