"Poor Boy" lyrics

You do what you love, put your blood, sweat, tears into it
They love what you do, it's a deal, can't get out of it and
I was throwing out the pens and paper
I keep running, but it's smell you later

I'm a poor boy from the country
What does Los Angeles want with me?
Sitting at my desk last week
Now I'm tryna be forgotten

Look at me, look at me, look at me
Me and my ego sitting in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
Nothing new, boy, I do it every week
I'm a rockstar, punk rock though
Soccer mom kind, there's some Chicago
Shitty business at the rock show
Looking good, bro, where's your head, though?

I'm not gonna lie, but it kinda hurts a little bit
Especially when I try to think
I can smell a thousand rhymes running in the thick of it
Something's gonna start to stink (Ha)

I'm a poor boy from the country
What does Los Angeles want with me?
Sitting at my desk last week
Now I'm tryna be forgotten
I don't care what you've heard
Industry's a dirty word
Sing it loud, sing a little louder
Sitting on the fence last week
Now I'm tryna be forgotten

La-la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la

I'm a poor boy from the country
What does Los Angeles want with me?
Sitting at my desk last week
Now I'm tryna be forgotten
I don't care what you've heard
Industry's a dirty word
Sing it loud, sing a little louder
Sitting on the fence last week
Now I'm tryna be forgotten

You do what you love, put your blood, sweat, tears into it
They love what you do, it's a deal, can't get out of it