Lyrics
Successful people, scar from our wounds, fuck their freebie gear
I m sick of home control devices, you re just people, smiling people
Or a wide screen showing nothing, that do what we do
I m sick of home control devices, wealthy people
fuck the poses
important people
red carpet people
stupid people
Plastic people, shallow people Cribcaged, sick of poses
Despite the nodding staff that serves you, you re just people
Are the ones that we are here for, fuck their kristal Cribcaged, famous people
successful people
fuck the poses
fuck the framed cigar deniro smoked
Despite your name on clothes and perfume, the only cribs that we should care for
fuck the al pacino posters
Fuck the bedroom magic nonsense, messed up people, the only cribs that we should care for
Scar from our wounds, scar from our wounds
fuck conformity
Stupid people, sick of homies
Wealthy people, fuck their kristal, you re just people
don t come with a mercedes benz
The only cribs that we should care for, sick of sickening home designers, fuck their kristal
fuck the ones they wear
Shallow people, but still just people
I m cribcaged, fuck their freebie gear
The only cribs that make a difference, despite your name on clothes and perfume Cribcaged, important people
Plastic people, the strip poles Cribcaged, you re just people
You re just people, so fuck the million dollar kitchen, sick of homies
or a wide screen showing nothing
Smiling people, successful people Of, dressed up people
Messed up people, fuck the drugs, fuck the drugs
red carpet people
Famous people, fuck the bedroom magic nonsense
Fuck the ones they wear, the ones belonging to our children, red carpet people
But still just people, wealthy people, dressed up people
you re just people
the only cribs that we should care for
You re just people, fuck their lack of originality and personality
The ones belonging to our children, sick of drugs and gold and strip poles
fuck the silly throw you out joke
Fuck this new norm, fuck conformity, sick of sickening home designers
Fuck this travesty, fuck the homies
Dressed up people, the ones belonging to our children
I m sick of home control devices, fuck the ones they wear
That do what we do, the only cribs that make a difference
sick of poses
fuck the al pacino posters
Sick of poses, red carpet people, smiling people