This is my real life
This isn’t fantasy
Bought a new condo
To escape from the “townies”
Coke and Pad Thai, my jeans are so tight; can’t breathe.
I’m not a poor boy, I just appear to be
Because I’m a lazy bum, nasal tone, always high, skin that glows.
Even if my art sucks – doesn’t really matter to me, to me.

Mama, I’m not a man
He smashed a brick over my head
“End of story” is what he said.
Mama, Brooklyn life is fun
But now I need your 401 K.
Mama, yahhhh-aaa-ahhh
You’re so mean, I’m gonna cry,
If my rent checks not here this time tomorrow
Carry on, carry on
There’s always Western Union.

Its late, I should go home
I’ll take the L that should be fine
Don’t have to be at work at nine
Goodbye, everybody
We’re children of the corn
Gotta go and pick out tomorrow’s hipster uniform.
Mama, yahhhhhaaaa,
I don’t want to lie,
I wear thick frames but I don’t need glasses at all.

I’m just a little stick figure of a man,
I’m a douche, I’m a douche!
Nine dollar rooftop mangos.
Brown people sightings,
very, very fright’ning me.
Artisanal Mayo! Artisanal Mayo!
Artisanal Mayo I need a smoke.
And some co-o-o-oke.
I’m just a rich boy who talks very nasally.
He’s acts like a poor boy but is from a rich family.
His music and art are a monstrosity.
Easy Bake – Oven Cake.
He bakes cupcakes.
Bushpointburg! No! How high will rents go.
(What a joke) Bushpointburg! No! How high will rents go.
(What a joke) Bushpointburg! No! How high will rents go.
(What a joke) How high will rents go.
(What a joke) How high will rents go.(What a joke)
Like yah yah yah yah yah yah yah!
Soy vente latte – Soy vente latte
Soy vente latte, make mine to go.
Bearded fucks; always feel like lice is jumping on me, on me
Look at meeeeeeeee!

So you think you love Brooklyn but that is a lie.
When is this whole hipster thing gonna die?
Oh, Caleb, can’t do this to me, Caleb,
You just gotta get out,
just get the fuck outta here.

Nothing really matters, Anyone can see.
It’s all just about: LOOK AT MEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Any way the beard blows.