Assorted Condiments Lyrics

Talking about young, young nicky

I don't

I don't give a fuck what what

The cook raps

He just needs to make my fucking order

I want that number seven

With the

I don't give a shit if he's singing

Tell him to hurry up

Why's it always feel like I wont ever succeed

Why the world so hungry but we fed up with greed

I ain't one to wallow don't put pity on me

But does talent really make it in this damn industry

Why's it always feel like I wont ever succeed

Why the world so hungry but we fed up with greed

I ain't one to wallow don't put pity on me

But does talent really make it in this damn industry

Geez

I remember being scared to get back in the booth

Thinking I never had it like it's something I lose

The pressure on myself got my neck in a noose

Scared of my shadow guess I got something to prove

Guess I got something to prove

To myself cause I feel like I won't have it again

I was scared to never rap let alone pick up a pen

But at times I know this pad feels like it's my only friend (like it's my only friend)

The one that really knows me and my thoughts in the end (any my thoughts in the end)

Why's it always feel like I wont ever succeed

Why the world so hungry but we fed up with greed

I ain't one to wallow don't put pity on me

But does talent really make it in this damn industry

Why's it always feel like I wont ever succeed

Why the world so hungry but we fed up with greed

I ain't one to wallow don't put pity on me

But does talent really make it in this damn industry

Geez

This pandemic hit and I lost years of my life

I blinked one night when I was 20 now I feel 25

And I'm still grieving with the feeling that when during that time

I left so much up on the table I ain't talking a rhyme

I'm talking weight

Overate

Overslept

See my face

Purple bags line my eyes

Facing pressures in my mind

You just sitting wasting time

Wasting time that could be mine

Once we spend it it's just time

Time is fading as we lie

Time is fading every line

I'm just aging in my mind

I'm just aging when I rhyme fuck

Why's it always feel like I wont ever succeed

Tell the cook to cut the rock and roll off

He needs to make my number 7 with the Diet Coke

We're at the deli of course

Mabel we're at the deli

Do you want me to tell the nice young man to make you something