Panhandlin' Prince

ittin' on a rusty park bench baby
Not much else to do
Smoke cigarettes and rink my Mickey's
Fine malt liquor brew
As I start drinkin' and I start thinkin'
That death is on my side
If my heart stopped beatin', the street kept reekin'
That's suicide.... that's right!

I grew up in the inner city
A dark part of this town
Just another innocent backwoods victim
Society like to put down
You can call me a boozer, or call me a loser
It really doesn't matter to me
I got a bench for snoozin', some sauce to keep boozin'
That's all I neeed

Chorus
I keep it comin', sometimes I don't know why
I'm gonna do it 'til the day i die

Consider me the duke as I dine in your dumpster
Unsanitary engineer
Baron of the bench the panhandlin' master
Well, I'm pullin' twenty G's a year
I know it ain't much but at least I'm in touch, yeah
With reality
And I wouldn't trade no places to be in rat races
No siree!

Chorus

Yo, Mr. Trump, can I ask you a question
You got some spare change for me sucker?
'Cause I'm down and out and there ain't no doubt
That I am here to stay

Yeah you see me lyin' with my brothers
In the gutter with my paper bag in hand