It Ain’t My Job

It ain’t my job
  To lend an ear
To wipe away your tears
To analyze yo weird ass dreams
   About Viking midget marionettes
Copulating on vanilla ice cream
To massage the corns
  On your busted ass feet
To wish you happy birthday
And waltz with you on Bourbon Street
I don’t care about your father
And the shit he done to you
That’s not what I’m about
That ain’t how I do

This a fiscal arrangement- don’t get it confused
I’m a pimp, you a whore
This the business we choosed
And I’mma be there to hurt folks that slap you around
That blacken your eye when they holding you down
Imma be there to slap the taste out their mouth
That’s what I’m about

But I don’t care bout some song that made you reflect
Just spread em out and genuflect
You make the money, and I’ll collect
This ain’t no rom com honeymoon
This a used up heroin balloon