[ ] x3
[ ]
I m sick and tired of you calling me names
I m sick and tired of your childish games
I m sick and tired of your bullshit brats
Cocaine stupor and anxiety attacks
Picked up the magazine, I see your face
You re nothin boy, a goddamn waste
With the lamest fashions on your back
You re never happy, a hypochondriac
Don t bust my chops, baby, don t bust my chops
Don t bust my chops, baby, don t bust my chops
[ ] x4
You re a styling queen and an alley cat
Too many chocolates keep a fat man fat
You re a pain in the ass, and your on the loose
All I get from you is your bad attitude
Dirty mouth, it s all I can bear
Get outta here bitch, cause you re nowhere
Always wearin that cheap perfume
Can always tell when you re in the room
Don t bust my chops, baby, don t...
[ ] x4
[ ] x3
[ ]
Don t bust my chops, baby, don t...
Don t bust my chops, baby, don t...
[ ] x4
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