Letra de Odd Jobs - Travis Thompson

(Feat. Khris P, Glenn)

Grew up doin odd jobs, tryna make the ends meet

Comfy in my knock-offs, riding on my ten speed

Eager for some money (I need some motherfuckin' money)

So I'm really 'bout whatever (I'm really 'bout whatever in this bitch)

Okay, I burned a couple CDs, flipped a twenty to a noodle pack

Kept a Franklin on me, as a youngin' been a frugal cat

Couple my friends parents was some smokers, some had stupid racks

I maneuver both of 'em for what it was, we used to that

I been in my lucid bag, havin' vivid dreams about it

Making shit to eat with moldy wheat, mama said eat around it

Never make believe, pawnin' PSPs, we ain't need allowance

Now I tell a goofy he can keep his thousands

I've been twistin' up since ten, hit the K2 at eleven

Thought my limbs was falling off and I still think they on by threadings

Hit the salvia at thirteen, threw up, had the worst dreams

Sayin', "pass it, pass it," now they laughin'-laughin', sayin', "Travis-Travis, is it working?"

I'm Scantron test circling like "fuck it", none of us going to college

Porcelain grip and I'm tourin' in middle America, none of us know when to call it

Bit off the muscle with no anabolic

Willin' to hustle, I'm young and unpolished

The first shit I heard at the park was The Chronic

Like, "Fuck is up, bitch? I'm Kurupt," an Impala like "ooh"

This that mainline, that chaos to my bloodstream

Got a great mind for the deaf sales and a day job where she fuck me

Hit a new drop like a Flex bomb, odd jobs for a check, dawg

Since Nesquik in my sippy cup, like, "Anyone doing a line?"

Grew up doin odd jobs, tryna make the ends meet

Comfy in my knock-offs, riding on my ten speed

Eager for some money (Eager for some money)

So I'm really 'bout whatever (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Everybody wanna die in they sleep, wanna ride when it's beef

Go and rely on that pride, when it's time, you will see

That the world don't care

That the world don't care (Yeah, hold on)

Hot Topic blacked out like I'm gothic, doing odd jobs

Dennis Rodman, on that bullshit since '91

Who the fuck want what?

I never understood what they runnin' from

Put 'em on a bench, they press no effort

I flex, they stress better

I put 'em undercover and spray 'em like bedwetters

Was a bad-ass kid, threw fits like trendsetters

X on my back, Off-White on my black sweater, yeah

I just had sex on my BMX

I whip a Harley bike with two different bitches that I just bench-pressed

They star-struck, eyeball Glenn, fuck 'em at Starbucks

I really do think that you all suck, really better get down, all sluts

Like, "aw shit", beatin' 'em down like a mosh pit

Writin' my name on a ball bat, knockin' 'em out, Barry Bonds, bitch

Really be thinkin' I'm God, look, I am nothin' but an odd man

Steady flippin' all these odd jobs, I don't be doin' no off-brand

Grew up doin odd jobs, tryna make the ends meet

Comfy in my knock-offs, riding on my ten speed

Eager for some money (Eager for some money)

So I'm really 'bout whatever (Really 'bout whatever)

Grew up doin odd jobs, tryna make the ends meet

Hoopties in my car port and now I need a Benz fleet

Eager for some money (Eager for some money)

So I'm really 'bout whatever (I'm really 'bout whatever, swear to God)

Tyler might've did something

Hey Mr. Smith do you need a dog walker?

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