[Chorus] Some got it really bad So don’t be getting mad Be thankful what you got, for things to build upon
Some got it really bad So don’t be getting mad Be thankful what you got, for things to build upon
[Verse 1] He came back from school Passed for credentials A few months passed A few bad interviews A bad mood A trip to Cali interlude Got a job, moved into apartment 2 Always on the move No friends, no family, paychecks, unhappy Paranoid, swears he's going to swear and yell, flip the middle finger Swings his car into a single space Checking things over and over again Losing control over everything Doesn’t know where anything ever is Feels like work will never end Writes notes, it’s hard to remember them Society just won’t let him in
[Chorus] Some got it really bad So don’t be getting mad Be thankful what you got, for things to build upon
Some got it really bad So don’t be getting mad Be thankful what you got, for things to build upon
[Verse 2] He talked to his mom, she started to cry Hung up the phone not wanting to fight He showered, dressed and started his ride It was hard to get by, he just wanted to die At work, it was hard to say hi They probably thought, ‘what’s wrong with this guy?’ He thought, ‘if only they saw me inside’ He could work better with his problems aside But it’s hard because problems started to rise Got home and lifted a bottle way high Keeping all his problems bottled inside Smoking cigarettes, always longs to get high Driving around tipsy to wander the night Stopping at Taco Bell because he wanted a bite Gets back home, it takes long to unwind Relocking doors, what’s going on in his mind?
[Chorus] Some got it really bad So don’t be getting mad Be thankful what you got, for things to build upon
Some got it really bad So don’t be getting mad Be thankful what you got, for things to build upon
[Verse 3] The slightest change in his tone wavering, his boss puts him on probation He got fired, going back to home again The job search is not going as planned Drowns himself in music, flowing and rap Doing checks, the refuse bin, that’s trash Gum, crumbs, toothpick, Q-Tip cotton swabs and cotton balls He will count ‘em all His friend dissed him so he skipped giving him calls and texts He needed distance, but his other friends he knew pulled the same stunt in his direction He too became a victim Smoking like a chimney, the pack’s empty on Wednesday He bought it on Monday midday The note said, "When I’m gone, ya’ll are fucked" He died in his car, windows down, garage shut