Pawnshop Laptop

Actions speak louder than words and all you ever do is talk the walk of shame it never fazed you I’m amazed you love that strut you want lovers you don’t have to love yourself myself I talk a lot, too, but I can do anything better than you you’re a pawnshop laptop your jobs, I’ve had them, I seat them at a two-top or a four-top in my black and whites I nab them, I cop to that, I grab them, I’m a table whore, I gab them up, like a horny whore getting money for what I’d do for free anyways my talk is cheap but I do it for pay and I touch my rent a dollar at a time each day and and sometimes I hate myself for it, these same stories always, it’s a bore, but they don’t know the score, they’re a conveyor belt chore, so I stay game, I walk a good game, I’m a geek to the Greeks up front and the Mexicans in the back making the food Greek, camisas and cabezas all I see, and all I do is run it out and why can’t I judge myself against me and not against you, and why can’t I get paid for what I love and not just what I do.