[Intro: Illy & LunchMoney Lewis]
Friday Flips, Friday Flips
Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn, goddamn
Goddamn this song
Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man
Let's give it a shot, Nic!
[Chorus: LunchMoney Lewis]
I got bills
I got bills
Bills, bills
Work, work
Bills, bills
Goddamn, goddamn, work, work
Bills
Oh man, oh man, I got
[Verse 1: Illy]
Yeah
Yeah, money in the trunk
Pockets so deep, ain't dug in them for months (nope)
Nah, Wednesday's still a hump (yep)
Hungry as fuck, tummy like a krump
Yeah, I been eating rappers for lunch
Still eating rappers for lunch
But these lightweights don't seem to get my calories up
And I don't share drinks, yeah boom, no punch
[Pre-Chorus: Illy]
I got bills I gotta pay
So I'm gon' work, work, work everyday (everyday, everday)
I got mouths I gotta feed
So I'm gon' make sure everybody eats
I got bills
[Verse 2: Illy]
Look man, I could school bookworms (true)
Every rapper I welcomed took Burns (true)
Drop punted, jumped into this foot-first
Truth hurts, I'm as Melbourne as hook turns
Can't care less what the government says
Demented, push back every time Telstra presses
Had a paid plan, guess I messed it up
Charlie, no XCX's
Been three months of phone calls, SMS's
Mailbox full, think they get the message
And no matter how fuckin' read the text is
I'm still not shook on collection letters
Like, "Dear Mr Police, thanks for the fine
Top of the garbage, back of the mind
Take me to court, happily oblige
See you in six months, actually psych"
That was my way through a lot
Now they pull me over, I'm payin' on the spot
I give a fuck what the neighbourhood wants
Want this bass down? Take it up with the cops
What's the point if we can't get a vibe
[?] when did sick cunts get marginalised?
Man is magic, hit targets in life
Just a part of the price and I got
[Chorus: Illy & LunchMoney Lewis]
Bills I gotta pay
So I'm gon' work work work everyday (everyday, everyday)
I got mouths I gotta feed
So I'm gon' make sure everybody eats
I got bills
[Interlude: Illy]
Yo, special shoutout to Nic Martin for making this beat something crazy. And all you rappers talkin' like you got no bills
[Verse 3: Illy]
You ain't here to talk shop, get the hell out
Everyone so quick to say sellout
But the back catalogue's full of sweet shit
And a whole lotta pimpin' themselves in the mailout
Still, they talkin' harder than club bouncers
Dummies throw steel bars through the glass houses
Till they tire them arms out, let your guard down
Then we barge round and go Rick James all over your white couch
We kill shit, and every [?] from the past vouches
And I'm hardly for narcissists
The same way these arseholes are hardly for artists
Stay out the [?], they are the martyrs
It's as if a decade ain't passed us
It's as if my rhymes aren't so fat
That you don't hear the net weight then gasp, mate, you asked
Gone off-topic
Half-cocked it, you scissor, bitch, I rock it
This isn't for giggles and shits
It's honest work, boy, got a pocket, 'cause I got bills
[Chorus (Extended): LunchMoney Lewis & Illy]
I, I, I got
Bills
I got bills
Bills, work, work
Bills, goddamn, goddamn
Work, work
Bills, oh man, oh man
Look, I got bills
Mama got bills (everybody got fuckin' bills, man)
Your daddy got bills
Your sister got bills (I'm just bein' honest about it)
Your aunty got bills
Your mama got bills (Friday Flips)
Everybody got bills (Lunchbox, LunchMoney Lewis)
Everybody got bills (whatever the cunt's fuckin' name is)
Everybody got bills
[Outro: Illy]
Shit, why do I keep calling him Lunchbox, man?
