Postal

I'm punchin' a clock, carryin' my lunch in a box So don't ever assume that my life is something it's not Shit, I got a 9 to 5, dispite the fact that I'm as live As any jerk-off cat that's signed to Jive My boss is trying to drop me out my tree house For at least three hours a day, he's chewin' me out For two to three thou. a month, they don't pay me enough To spend my work day, taking this stuff this jerk say I ain't workin' over time I'm tryin' to hear my name on MTV news up, in Kurt Loader's lines So I work over rhymes, and I'm behind in my paper work I'm late for work, cause I spend my nights chasin' skirts My measly checque don't make it worth the stress That hurts my chest, not to mention I'm emmersed in debt To the top of a turtle neck, pissin' an moanin' But why should anyone listen to me, when I don't listen to no one Consider this as an omen, I could go beserk At any moment, like a mail man fed up with postal work I went from happy to nasty like a Bi-Polar jerk To shoot em down the lounge with the fine foldgers perks Punch in, Punch out, Lunch in, Lunch out I've been lookin for a building with nice window to jump out Feelin' self destructive? Sick of the daily grime? Lately I feel disruptive, and I think it's mailman time *Beat changes* Day in, day out, It seems like there's no way out I pulled the twelve gauge out and shot off twenty-eight rounds And watch the pellets spread out, killin my associates My boss is gonna get it now, and find out what Postal is "Good morning Mr. Schwartz" "Good morning Louis You've been late three times this month already, I believe this is the fourth" "I don't want you misinformed, it's probably more-ac