Big Infant - Work The Boss

Grew up on a farm nestled in the city
Big apple, Wisconsin, Philly
Got detention in Miami and vacation in Detroit
Shack in the Swiss Alps - basketball courts
I think a lot about services rendered entirely useless
Everything for me - nothing left for you
'Cause I work the bosses at the annual review

And there's nothing to it
Even you could do it
There's nothing to it - even you could do it
I believe in you

Smash my alarms - haunted by a Mickey
Walt was the scapegoat for Eisner's Disney
Prevention can be tacky - I'd rather just exploit
All those double-L-beany-baby-low-lives at Deloitte
I think a lot about wework - Aren't Fox: motherfuckers 'leg T-shirts
Slang 'em out the trunk, take the J. Crew out to lunch
Watch them stuff they face with Colony Capital Crunch

And there's nothing to it
Even you could do it
There's nothing to it - even you could do it
I believe in you

That's why I don't fuck with you
That's why I don't fuck with you
That's why I don't fuck with Sidley, Turelk, Morrison Foerster too

When I get up, I sit back down
I don't lift many fingers
I lay about and wait for your call
You always call
You ask me if I wanna do things, but nah

No, thank you
No, thank you - fuck you
No, thank you

I practice saying "no" in the mirror every day
So, when you knock-knock-knock
I know just what to say

No, thank you
No, thank you - fuck you
No, thank you

If you want we could talk about it
If you want we could talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk
I'd rather not

Written by:
Chris Arias, Jason Brunes, Justin Raymonde, Matt Zeidner

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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