Sixty Hours A Week by Xavior Black Lyrics
Sixty hours a week, to make ends meet
Two jobs ain’t cutting it, I gotta work three
I’m breaking up my back for this one-room shack
And brother, I ain’t having that
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
Sixty hours a week, to make ends meet
Two jobs ain’t cutting it, I gotta work three
I’m breaking up my back for this one-room shack
And brother, I ain’t having that
I have dreams of living on an island, smiling
Looking to the sky and colorful birds flying by
And I’m lying out on the beach sand
With a beautiful Caribbean woman at each hand
But every day I wake up to the same old
Slaving for the corporate suits pushing the Rangе Rov’s
And I don’t have a say, so they keep my pay low
Stacking gold bricks like Lеgos
So I get the scraps from the people that have the scraps
How wack is that?
I get a pat on the back
Like “Do you really expect me to act relaxed?”
Right after that
I go straight to another job, back-to-back
I switch uniforms like it was a magic act
I get so tired of working for these jerks
And wearing all the stupid corporation t-shirts
I swear to god, I’mma go and do the research
And figure a way out, I hate that we work…
I’mma do the research
And figure a way out, I hate that we work
Sixty hours a week, to make ends meet
Two jobs ain’t cutting it, I gotta work three
I’m breaking up my back for this one-room shack
And brother, I ain’t having that
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
Broken dreams everywhere
People living every day like they just don’t care
Showing up to work in a hat and tie
Watching all their dreams just pass them by
Every day is the same, again and again
That’s why I’m so determined not to be like them
I’ve got to keep moving, I’m a rolling stone
I spit my soul through the wire like I’m on the phone
I gotta hold down The Fort, ‘cause I’m home alone
So if you step up to my door, you will know it’s on
That’s why I gotta smoke mics like a hippie with a spliff
‘Cause I ain’t trying to see another overtime shift
And I ain’t trying to see a roach lying in my cabinet
I’m trying to see the coastline from a NASA jet
I’m trying to spend a long time there relaxing with
A dime, brother, working overtime ain’t happening
Sixty hours a week, to make ends meet
Two jobs ain’t cutting it, I gotta work three
I’m breaking up my back for this one-room shack
And brother, I ain’t having that
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
Sixty hours a week, to make ends meet
Two jobs ain’t cutting it, I gotta work three
I’m breaking up my back for this one-room shack
And brother, I ain’t having that
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
Two jobs ain’t cutting it, I gotta work three
I’m breaking up my back for this one-room shack
And brother, I ain’t having that
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
Sixty hours a week, to make ends meet
Two jobs ain’t cutting it, I gotta work three
I’m breaking up my back for this one-room shack
And brother, I ain’t having that
I have dreams of living on an island, smiling
Looking to the sky and colorful birds flying by
And I’m lying out on the beach sand
With a beautiful Caribbean woman at each hand
But every day I wake up to the same old
Slaving for the corporate suits pushing the Rangе Rov’s
And I don’t have a say, so they keep my pay low
Stacking gold bricks like Lеgos
So I get the scraps from the people that have the scraps
How wack is that?
I get a pat on the back
Like “Do you really expect me to act relaxed?”
Right after that
I go straight to another job, back-to-back
I switch uniforms like it was a magic act
I get so tired of working for these jerks
And wearing all the stupid corporation t-shirts
I swear to god, I’mma go and do the research
And figure a way out, I hate that we work…
I’mma do the research
And figure a way out, I hate that we work
Sixty hours a week, to make ends meet
Two jobs ain’t cutting it, I gotta work three
I’m breaking up my back for this one-room shack
And brother, I ain’t having that
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
Broken dreams everywhere
People living every day like they just don’t care
Showing up to work in a hat and tie
Watching all their dreams just pass them by
Every day is the same, again and again
That’s why I’m so determined not to be like them
I’ve got to keep moving, I’m a rolling stone
I spit my soul through the wire like I’m on the phone
I gotta hold down The Fort, ‘cause I’m home alone
So if you step up to my door, you will know it’s on
That’s why I gotta smoke mics like a hippie with a spliff
‘Cause I ain’t trying to see another overtime shift
And I ain’t trying to see a roach lying in my cabinet
I’m trying to see the coastline from a NASA jet
I’m trying to spend a long time there relaxing with
A dime, brother, working overtime ain’t happening
Sixty hours a week, to make ends meet
Two jobs ain’t cutting it, I gotta work three
I’m breaking up my back for this one-room shack
And brother, I ain’t having that
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
Sixty hours a week, to make ends meet
Two jobs ain’t cutting it, I gotta work three
I’m breaking up my back for this one-room shack
And brother, I ain’t having that
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under