Lyric Don t Bust My Chops

I m sick and tired of you calling my names
I m sick and tired of your childish games
I m sick and tired of your bullshit brats
Cocaine stupor and anxiety attacks
Picked up a magazine, I see your face
You re nothin but a goddamn waste
With the lamest fashion on your back
You re never happy, a hypochondriac

Don t bust my chops
Baby, don t bust my chops
Don t bust my chops
Baby, don t bust my chops
Yeah

You re a stylish queen and an alley cat
Too many chocolates, getting fat fat fat
You re a pain in the ass, and your on the loose
All I get from you is your bad attitude
Dirty mouth, it s all I can bear
Get outta here bitch, cause you re nowhere
Always wearin that cheap perfume
I can always tell when you re in the room

Don t bust my chops
Baby, don t bust my chops
Don t bust my chops
Baby, don t bust my chops
Aah

Don t bust my chops
Baby, don t bust my chops
Don t bust my chops
Baby, don t bust my chops
Don t bust my chops
Baby, don t bust my chops
Don t bust my chops
Yeah, don t bust my chops
Alright