Machine

Got a gold watch
Poor grammar and sneakers
Cheap leather jackets
And fingers
 
Have a little auto-tune
That I bought with the inheritance  
Stole a beat used once before
In a thousand songs
 
Alright, alright, alright
 
I feed the machine
I feed a simple minded slave
I feed the delusion of being somebody
 
Got the skank
Got the kids in a bank
Got the made up swagger hips
 
I'm all about the machine
 
Feud with brothers
Get shot while opening bottles
Improves my reputation
Riddled with holes
 
Lowlifes become me
And the girls follow right along
Want a first class ticket
To see the excess
 
Alright, alright, alright
 
I feed the machine
I feed a simple minded slave
I feed the delusion of being somebody
 
Got the skank
Got the kids in a bank
Got the made up swagger hips
 
I'm all about the machine
 
I don't know
Guess we chose to be
Ended up dead at twenty five
Wore the wrong color
 
Comic book dreams
They never really come true
After you see and meet the real thing
It's not so glamorous, no