Im sick of only making peanuts.
Im sick of stale sandwich bread.
Ive got a plan to make it better
And it begins with a simple punch to my head.
Another count and Im down but Im wearing him down.
Keeping the faith that Ive got what it takes.
Deride my pride but Ill be alright.
Ive got a Rocky II lunchbox with bills in it
And Ill scrape by.
I have seen this on some episode
Of Maude, Fish, Chips, or the White Shadow
Rerun in my mind a thousand times
Though I forget the channel.
But I am back in my corner with ice packs and water
The champs right hook changing my good side to bad.
Too late to make a run for the van
The doc leans in timidly asking about my health plan
I can see the referee wants to go home
(homeys got a wife and family)
And my detractors clap their hands and blow their smoke
(Headline news in next days sportspage.)
With every second that goes by
I dont mind my swollen eyes.
Cause I bet on myself and Im making a killing.
My opponent planned victory, I planned to lose.
My bookie is crying, my wife thinks Im dying
But Ive got a nest egg thats hatching in the final round.
And as I fall to the floor I dont feel so hardcore
My teeth swinging loose like a drunk girls caboose
My boys in the corner are pensive and somber
And Father OReilly is crossing himself more and more
I can see the referee want to go home
(Homeys got a wife and family)
And my detractors move their feet and blow their smoke
(Headline news in next days sportspage).
Cause I bet on myself and Im making a killing.
My opponent planned victory, I planned to lose.
My bookie is crying, my wife thinks Im dying
But Ive got a nest egg thats hatching in the final round.
And
