1st Chorus: It ain't nobody's to fix except my own, on the mornings when I wake up with a twist in my bones; parchment in muscle, but so what--fuck it, at least now I know real application for how a lack of potassium goes.

V1: It's eight, I wake up to face a new day/ First thing I see: it's Kate with no makeup, the way that I take her; that way then I can see the details of her beautiful face without the fake-out of Ulta, MAC, or Marc Jacobs, no thanks!//// When she's asleep, still, her features present a sentiment of peace/ It gets peaceful in her vicinity with ease// And she eats well (I don't mean alot, I mean 'not a lot of grease')/ Even bacon fat get leaner when she add it to the heat//// Even racist dad is happy when he's had her craft cuisine, and he's famous for hatin' anything someone make him to eat/ She's the greatest, times like inifinity-- yeah, that's my queen/ She get me faded off the shape of that ass inside of dem jeans////

2nd Chorus: It ain't nobody else responsibility on the evenings practicing baby-making's killed in the crib/ Those M-Box 30's/ They sure do play dirty/ that's what it is// threatening to end legend and legacy and breath for my dick////

V2:Friday I take off to pick up my dope/ it's been a real pain in my dick since this bullshit south of the border//I'm sick of the lack of order/I'm sick of the lack of hope/mass lowering of morale and the gallows are short on rope//// OR I'm sorta startin' to lose it/ I'm sorta startin' to break/ Like, not really; I'm great, feel me?/ Or maybe "sort of okay"//See I'm happy, I'm blessed, and I'm ready--in my corner is Kate/ In the enemy's corner's fetty/ Bet any idiot takes him a//// piece of that damn action/ an Opportunity, ya'll, to be great/ To be Sam Jackson in anything for a change// IT's celestial DNA in a nymphomaniac case, and a hot poker to motivate me out of this haze////