Sick of all these euphemisms, sick of niggaz bin in prison
Real or a mind state, sick of fighting inner visions
Sick of all this cynicism like ‘he hasn’t been in prison,
how can he speak on it?’ Sick of all this criticism
Hurt when dey criticial, call me Mr Pitiful
Sick of being a sitting in duck, wish I didn’t give a fuck
Sick of living by the book, sick of tryna make a buck,
Sick of tryna make a pound, sick of working to the ground
Ain’t fly like a G6, sick of being grounded
Now they got me chasing circles, guess it keeps me rounded
Sick of being lied to, life of a brown kid
Aim for the sky too, don’t let em hold you down kid
Sick of saying life’s a bitch, dogs getting pounded
And it’s over little shit, and still we getting hounded
Dogs sniffing through our shit, just tryna make a pound kid
When Steven bleeding cos of them, then they never found shit

Hook

Sick to my bones, each to their own
Crabs in a barrel tryna reach for the throne
Sick to my bones, each to their own
ET fingers tryna reach for the throne
Sick to my bones, each to their own
Crabs in a barrel tryna reach for the throne
Sick to my bones, each to their own
ET fingers tryna reach for the throne


Verse 2


Sick of all these rappers be, sick of all this apathy
When I spit this deep shit other rappers laugh at me
Rappers getting played nigger, seeing what the gaffer see
Field fulla niggers that I wish I didn’t have to see
No Limit what we do as one, but this ain’t be no Master P
Runaway slave and I’m looking for the master key
Always looking back cos I’m freeing all the masses g
Tryna share this money too, ain’t down with all these classes b
Bastards take your money too, then they flash their cash at you
Police puppets sent to clash, but why these muppets bashing you?
Sick of taking off my hoodie, they attacking fashion too
Sick of seeing one black, face they gonna ration you
Sprinkle you around and you thinking that you equal now
Uncle Tom niggers and you holding all my people down
Cos I cuss a little bit you saying that I’m evil now
Take these fuckers back in time, then we taking regal bows

Hook

Sick to my bones, each to their own
Crabs in a barrel tryna reach for the throne
Sick to my bones, each to their own
ET fingers tryna reach for the throne
Sick to my bones, each to their own
Crabs in a barrel tryna reach for the throne
Sick to my bones, each to their own
ET fingers tryna reach for the throne

Verse 3

These lies they are imminent, rise of the immigrant
Scared of the other man, am I not a brother man
This is for my immigrants kosha or illegal
Now the old immigrants put quotas on their people
Sick of these people supporting this war buzz
Creating immigrants, then they close down the borders
Sick of these laws, sick of these court orders
Sick of being poor, sick of these closed doors cuz
Kick in the door waving the 4,4
Suicidal Thoughts can’t take it no more cos
Sick of being nought, sick of these closed quarters
Sick of being bought, sick of being sold short cos
Say that I wine, but I’m stuck with this water
Sick of these swine sending lambs to the slaughter
Sick of war lords, sick of these loot hoarders
Imagine how they feel if we shoot their daughters


Hook

Sick to my bones, each to their own
Crabs in a barrel tryna reach for the throne
Sick to my bones, each to their own
ET fingers tryna reach for the throne
Sick to my bones, each to their own
Crabs in a barrel tryna reach for the throne
Sick to my bones, each to their own
ET fingers tryna reach for the throne