Punching The Clock/Pt. 2 ft. Press Mute Lyrics

It's John Doe Press Mute

We're in this to the end let's go

I Went from lunch lines to punching the clock

And Now it's punchlines bout clutching the Glock

You Setting up lines you punched out a block

Like you spawned Minecraft up on the doc-

(Haha aight)

Bucket of sunshine gone now hustler locked

Wonder if sometimes my crown's fucking up trust

Couple of months rhymed now nobody loves

The love of my life almost walked out because

The rhymes that I wrote- I cry at the thought

Nobody wants my songs out so fuck it I lost

The bastards who hate me it's stacking up crazy

So when ya combine skin they fucking appalled

Lost family ones I once called family chumps

We share the same blood line but dawg that don't mean nun

Grass gon be cut find snakes are rattling huh

Bombs drop tomorrow homie this is Atom's eve punk

Yeah ho remember when you was gonna fly out to Vegas

Then a week later you was riding some strange dick

Yeah bro remember when we was ride or dies basic

Then you fast forward and you was writing die fake shit

Yeah bros remember when you was hyping my playlist

Then you got pissed off when I was striving for greatness

Yeah so Imma keep writing till I die in my grave bitch

Cause I drive me out my mind I'm tired 2 faces

What

Nick got no dollars yeah Nicky's got nada yeah

Nicky Ain't Nicky no more no Nicky is John Doe yuh

Nicky's got thoughts of him Knicking his arms up yuh

Nicky's got problems at 16 years old huh wait

Nicky's a monster yeah Nicky is lost bruh

I Must be roamin then homie cause I'm Nicki on Monster

Yeah The king will concur- this empire

Yeah Nicky's upon us with no keys to guide us

Hey Nicky Hey Nicky Hey Nicky cmon bruh

'Yo Nicky wassup bruh" "yo Nicky hey fuck ya"

Ain't sending these shots huh no Nicky will launch Em

Nicky will drop ya yeah Nicky's a God huh

Now Nicky's Montana you play with the Don bruh

The True king of the monsters the Vegas Mufasa

You Couldn't leave a scratch on a pool table with gutters

Dude wait for this problem hakuna matata

Blue faces on dollars I'm faded with ganja

I'm Vader your father two faced at my concerts

Bouquet to my high tops you ain't a blood brother

Dude paved his road fucked up two cases of vodka

Everybody wanna argue like it's potato potato

But It don't really matter cause it's still taters on shotguns

I will pull up with the motherfucking bang bang and the braka

You ain't a gang banger you need to train harder wait

You ain't a gang banger you need to

Ayo

You're the

Punch line of the joke Those guys gonna choke

This time I devote My time to their throats

Like a pack of Newport's They're dying to smoke

I rise from the Smoke Zip tie then provoke

Some guys who tried To leave me to soak

In my own tears My eyes getting soaked

My ride, river boat Obliged stay afloat

I rhymed artichoke 12 times then denote

"I spy me the goat Surprising them both"

Whatcha want now

I just dropped a whole album And it's out now

(What? Wow) Check it out

I'll get your hairs standing up On end

My friend's On edge

Like it's Epstein's death bed

When at work Go berserk who am I then

I Punch the clock Change appearance Like I'm Ben 10

So since when- Were you allowed to

Decide what my fate was I hate to disappoint cause

Your brain cells don't anoint us No they mostly annoy us

Now it gets straight to the point thus We push you with annoyance

Cause that gets to a point dunce We throw you on the short bus

Just after we have concussed Your dumb head

All Love

You Spend your time Being stuck up and too solemn

So Let's reverse Let us talk about your own problems

Taste of recognition Bitter like forbidden fruit

But you would rather taste Then love your neighbors isn't that the truth

This you didn't know I'm about to twist your mental

Let's reverse it Like a J. Cole instrumental

What would happen if you let your neighbors taste the fruit

Would you pull them down or take a bite Something you can choose

You got me