Wombaticus Rex - Minimum Wage [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

I'm sick of the same arguments, I'm sick of debates
I'm sick of cynical rappers reading a list of complaints
I'm sicker than I'm sick of mental midgets who say
They're sicker than AIDS...and kick it like it's an original phrase
I'm sick of cliches, getting bored with metaphors
And the adolescent level of skills you settle for
Minumum wage, average cats accept that
But if you want the next shit, then stop buying fresh crap

If I really spoke my mind it would involve an interpreter
And alter the curvature of the walls and the furniture
I don't see dead people but they do read me poetry
When I go to sleep, t-t-time to stop smoking weed
I know exactly who I'm trying to reach
By combining the science of beats with the mind of a priest
I'm the father figure eight administrator
The liquid laser...shit I only make sense to physics majors
Pissing off these christians cuz I'm doper than God
Hold the applause -- I accept checks and Soviet bombs
And if the Man comes knocking, just let him inside
I got a few machetes to buy and I'm ready to die
It's the vigilante...chasing chubby chicks in panties
It's like I'm Santa how I'm handing out obituaries
You got all the right equations to explain why you're not famous
But face it....so does every waitress in Las Vegas

I'm sick of the same arguments, I'm sick of debates
I'm sick of cynical rappers reading a list of complaints
I'm sicker than I'm sick of mental midgets who say
They're sicker than AIDS...and kick it like it's an original phrase
I'm sick of cliches, getting bored with metaphors
And the adolescent level of skills you settle for
Minumum wage, average cats accept that
But if you want the next shit, then stop buying fresh crap

And that's the difference, little league versus rap olympics
You're a cover band, I'm an established business
You're wasting your life, and I'm trained to strangle the mic
So let me make sure that I'm explaining it right:
You're big city nothing, I'm small town famous
You dress up like a rapper, I just run around naked
You call women bitches, then get nervous and ignore 'em
But I'm the kinda guy who holds the door open for 'em
You sock puppets talk about the guns you don't have
I don't talk about all the guns I do have, true facts
And it's the cypher champion type, hand me a mic
I'll be dismantling your fantasty life
Wombaticus Rex, rapping for checks, status and sex
NO SUCH LUCK, now my ass is in debt
You don't get cash for respect, or battling heads
I got a black sense of humor and I'm laughing to death