[Hook]
Trade in my soul
I'm a slave to that dough
f*ck it, pay me
I don't want no fame
I'm on a low budget
Make what I own
Get out my face
I don't owe nothing
Trade in my soul
I'm a slave to that dough
f*ck it
Thousand b*tches, thousand b*tches [x8]
[Verse 1: Lunar C]
Girls everywhere, I'm tryna take a couple of 'em home
Sailor Jerry's got me slurring like a motherf*cker though [?]
A thousand b*tches, quick put them in a row
I've gotta be up in the morning to shoot a f*cking video
Nah, I can never f*ck a thousand b*tches
Cause I always f*cking c*m in about 6 minutes
But I get the job done, don't doubt it
Mr. Fantastic, Stretch Armstrong, Dhalsim did it
b*tch I ain't swapping digits
My mind stay on my business
I ain't misogynistic, I've just got a lot of b*tches
Been everybody's demons
Now I'm seeking my inner peace
I want five Latin wives and three from the Philippines
I just hope I don't die before they legalise weed and polygamy
[?]
I'm starting to get a hard-on
She said "what? I beg your pardon?"
I said "b*tch, are you retarded?"
"What you doing in the V.I.P with all these artists? You ain't talent scouting, you want hard di*k"
Although I'm ugly somehow I got women
Don't want me? I'm putting it down to my lyrics
I jump in the crowd and they gripping my p*nis or ripping my jeans, I've got hundreds and thousands of b*tches
[Hook] [x1]