[Verse 1] Im sick and tired of you calling me names Im sick and tired of your childish games Im sick and tired of your bullshit brats Cocaine stupor and anxiety attacks Picked up the magazine, I see your face Youre nothing boy, a goddamn waste With the lamest fashions on your back Youre never happy, a hypochondriac [Chorus] Dont bust my chops, baby, dont bust my chops Yeah! [Verse 2] Youre a styling queen and an alley cat Too many chocolates keep a fat man fat Youre a pain in the ass, and your on the loose All I get from you is your bad attitude Dirty mouth, its all I can bear Get out of here bitch, because youre nowhere Always wearing that cheap perfume Can always tell when youre in the room [Chorus] Dont bust my chops, baby, dont bust my chops Yeah! Dont bust my chops, baby, dont bust my chops Yeah! [Outro] Alright
chop, bust, sick, tired, fat