"Sellout" lyrics
Sold my soul to write some songs that I don't care about
Was really hoping I'd get loaded but I'm selling out
Sold out shows and endless hoes, it only brings me down
But I chose to take that money, win or lose
'Cause it all means nothing, but it's nothing new
Got what's coming 'cause they made me choose
You could fight for something, baby, what's the use?
'Cause they'll take it from you, till you think it's you
Every night I'm drinking, thinking I should quit
Even though I hate this, tryna make it fit
Sick of all these fake pricks, saying I'm the shit
Oh, they had me thinking maybe this was it
This was it, this was it, yeah
This was it, this was it, yeah
This was it, this was it, yeah
Oh, this was it, this was it, yeah
I don't know which ones my bros, from those who hang around
Way back home I tried to show them, want to make them proud
I was supposed be the one that they all spoke about
How the fuck I get here drowning on this roof?
'Cause it all means nothing, but it's nothing new
Got what's coming 'cause they made me choose
You could fight for something, baby, what's the use?
'Cause they'll take it from you, till you think it's you
Every night I'm drinking, thinking I should quit
Even though I hate this, tryna make it fit
Sick of all these fake pricks, saying I'm the shit
Oh, they had me thinking maybe this was it
This was it, this was it, yeah
This was it, this was it, yeah
This was it, this was it, yeah
Oh, this was it, this was it, yeah
Tryna write this new one thinking that it's sick
Probably stealing lines though, from some better shit
Anyways we're high bro, sorry, if we did
We're just tryna write some kind of fucking hit
This is it, this is it, yeah
This is it, this is it, yeah
This is it, this is it, yeah
Oh, this is it, this is it, yeah
Every night I'm drinking, thinking I should quit
Even though I hate this, tryna make it fit
Sick of all these fake pricks, saying I'm the shit
Oh, they had me thinking maybe this was it
Every night I'm drinking, thinking I should quit
Even though I hate this, tryna make it fit
Sick of all these fake pricks, saying I'm the shit
Oh, they had me thinking maybe this was it
Land of broken dreams, guess I'm just another cliché
Writing all this pop shit, faking it in LA
Guess I should've listened, you know what they say
If you sell your soul for pay checks, you're the one who pays
Was really hoping I'd get loaded but I'm selling out
Sold out shows and endless hoes, it only brings me down
But I chose to take that money, win or lose
'Cause it all means nothing, but it's nothing new
Got what's coming 'cause they made me choose
You could fight for something, baby, what's the use?
'Cause they'll take it from you, till you think it's you
Every night I'm drinking, thinking I should quit
Even though I hate this, tryna make it fit
Sick of all these fake pricks, saying I'm the shit
Oh, they had me thinking maybe this was it
This was it, this was it, yeah
This was it, this was it, yeah
This was it, this was it, yeah
Oh, this was it, this was it, yeah
I don't know which ones my bros, from those who hang around
Way back home I tried to show them, want to make them proud
I was supposed be the one that they all spoke about
How the fuck I get here drowning on this roof?
'Cause it all means nothing, but it's nothing new
Got what's coming 'cause they made me choose
You could fight for something, baby, what's the use?
'Cause they'll take it from you, till you think it's you
Every night I'm drinking, thinking I should quit
Even though I hate this, tryna make it fit
Sick of all these fake pricks, saying I'm the shit
Oh, they had me thinking maybe this was it
This was it, this was it, yeah
This was it, this was it, yeah
This was it, this was it, yeah
Oh, this was it, this was it, yeah
Tryna write this new one thinking that it's sick
Probably stealing lines though, from some better shit
Anyways we're high bro, sorry, if we did
We're just tryna write some kind of fucking hit
This is it, this is it, yeah
This is it, this is it, yeah
This is it, this is it, yeah
Oh, this is it, this is it, yeah
Every night I'm drinking, thinking I should quit
Even though I hate this, tryna make it fit
Sick of all these fake pricks, saying I'm the shit
Oh, they had me thinking maybe this was it
Every night I'm drinking, thinking I should quit
Even though I hate this, tryna make it fit
Sick of all these fake pricks, saying I'm the shit
Oh, they had me thinking maybe this was it
Land of broken dreams, guess I'm just another cliché
Writing all this pop shit, faking it in LA
Guess I should've listened, you know what they say
If you sell your soul for pay checks, you're the one who pays
Writer(s): Woods Elijah
