Watabout

They don’t give a Watabout
A Watabout my life
Children of the world are you ready?
Are you happy are you happy are you happy
Tell me why
Its colder than July the milkman don’t stop by
To bring me high fructose corn syrup
Rather instead of that he bring me meth
And a bag full a debt
And I know what is wrong with my problems
I think it is me, I think it is she
I think theres something wrong with this damned country
In which I’m living in
Constitutions paying dividends
And all these intellectuals surround me
So peripheral
All around my focal
My vocal is disrupted
Interrupted, by spear coming Jacksons you know whats comin'
Planes hijacked
And I got people in Iraq
And I got people in Afghanistan
Never coming back, shit
What’s going on my man?
Haven’t seen you in awhile brotha, tell me
Tell me whats up?
They don’t give a watabout
A watabout my life
They don’t give a watabout
A watabout your life
They don’t give a watabout
A watabout my life
They don’t give a watabout
A watabout my life
They don’t give a fuck about
A fuck about my life