Odd Jobs lyrics

[Chorus]
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 motherf*ckin' money)
So I'm really 'bout whatever (I'm really 'bout whatever in this b*tch)

[Verse 1: Travis Thompson]
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 sh*t 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 "f*ck 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 sh*t I heard at the park was The Chronic
Like, "f*ck is up, b*tch? 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 f*ck 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?"
[Chorus]
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)

[Bridge: Travis Thompson & Khris P]
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)

[Verse 2: Khris P]
Hot Topic blacked out like I'm gothic, doing odd jobs
Dennis Rodman, on that bullsh*t since '91
Who the f*ck 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

[Verse 3: Glenn, Khris P, Glenn & Khris P]
I just had sex on my BMX
I whip a Harley bike with two different b*tches that I just bench-pressed
They star-struck, eyeball Glenn, f*ck 'em at Starbucks
I really do think that you all suck, really better get down, all sl*ts
Like, "aw sh*t", beatin' 'em down like a mosh pit
Writin' my name on a ball bat, knockin' 'em out, Barry Bonds, b*tch
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
[Chorus]
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)

[Outro]
Tyler might've did something
Hey Mr. Smith do you need a dog walker?