Right for Me Songtext / Lyric

Hook:
Right for me, will change me, rearrange my head to be
Just right for you and me, don’t laugh, please listen
Don’t laugh, please listen Thought I’d give in to the pressure
Collapse and crumble perhaps
Relapsing under that
Well, that's a bunch of crap
In the clutch, I'm the Captain Crunch of rap
And I'm sick of acting humble, that's enough of that
Fuck that shit, cut the sack
Like it's a natural reaction
That's why I'm actually trapped in this shoving match
'Cause push keeps coming to that
I can keep getting my ass kicked, I’m coming back
Like a sarcastic crumpled sack of shit, still mad
Disgruntled had some struggles, yeah
But that passionate hunger's back
The fantastic juggling act
And the way I flip my tongue on the track
It's like verbal acrobatics
But, in fact, last time I tried to pull off a dramatic stunt as drastic
I fuckin' crashed my hovercraft
After I strapped the duffel bag to my back
And stuck the massive punchin' bag in it
An elastic bungee strap, proper plaster, a thumb tack
And a piece of plastic bubble wrap
Went spastic and fuckin' snapped
Jumped and splashed in a puddle of battery acid
Stumbled back, recovered, back flipped
And landed on a gymnastic tumble mat
And for my last trick, lunge on back lash
On a NASA shuttle flap, fuckin' snapped the rudder in half
Chuckled and laughed, buttaled my last rebuttal
And just asked him to come crash
And I grab my Go-Go-Gadget inflatable gigantic humongous mattress
And ceramic construction hat
Rubbed my magic mushroom tat
Fell off then splat, get up from that
Face taped to a waste paper basket
Throw up then gasp, lungs collapse
And that's more likely than finding someone that's

Hook

Couple of shots of Jäger
Public intoxication, dis-fuckin'-combobulation
Flooded with thoughts of anger
While I was away I know probably some of you got to thinkin'
"You're top ten, ain't cha?" stop it cause you fuckers are talkin' crazy
And stop interrupting you're not even up in the conversation
Whether you're punchin' a clock or famous
Underground, pop, or nameless, whatever your job is
I came to fuck with your occupation
You're thinkin' just 'cause you came in with scrubs
And you brought the scalpel and sponge
The oxygen tank and the suction and shot the brain surgeon
Stuck in the operating room
Once you done swapped your name with him
Smuggled in Ronald Reagan
Dug him up, Donald Fagen
While juggling waffles baking
A fuckin' McDonalds egg and cheese sausage bagel finagle
They flung it across the table
Then bump it and knock it shake it
Jumped and got in the way then disrupted my concentration
I said "Fuck it" and lost my patience
They all woke up from sedation
Ain't none of you Doctor Dre
So then what does it got you thinkin'
You can fuck with this operation
Aftermath, still running hip-hop amazing
I'm still pluggin' along
No need for an assumption
Here's confirmation
I'm up for the long duration
I'm just looking for something to walk away with
Some pocket change and a little integrity
Though I'll probably be jumpin' across the stage
Till I'm fuckin' Madonna's age and
Stuck in an awkward place in my life
But I shit you not like I'm plugged up with constipation
That day will come before I finally stumble upon some lady that’s

Hook