Everyone clap for the crap artists   A pat on the back to whichever one sounds smartest   Capture the magic of blabbering half-hearted   And the last rambling man standing laughs hardest   Can’t handle the grandstanding on red carpets   Doin’ the camera flash thing in new pants, targets   Doin’ it to catch a glance of a new fast startin’   They only listen to what you spinnin’ what the bad part is   Eyes glazed over watchin’ idols cry for food   Words big as their appetites and none of ‘em are true   Fresh outta shit to say but still got plenty to prove   These words are made for talkin’ and talkin’s not for you   My sleeves are stuffed with better ways to say things   I pull ‘em out at the first hit and it’s spellbreakin’   Real magic making for an honorable mention   So rap where people can see you my weak homies’ tentin’   Only tip my hat to cats to scratch the doors in it   Fill it up, wanna rap and distract the lost children   Make a living offa milkin’ ‘em for teardrops   And mashin’ work together till the motherfuckin’ beat stops   Soon enough they’ll tell you that you’re spoutin out their dreams   Not the racket of an idiot with eyes on that supreme spot   And a foldin’ chair to pull up at the top   For a seat next to the door that where the shit that doesn’t stink drops   Could almost see it every time I pitch rocks   Camped out in a glass house with a slingshot      I get paid to breathe, hooray for me, hooray for me, hooray for me   I get paid to breathe, hooray for me, hooray for me, hooray for me   I get paid to breathe, hooray for me, hooray for me, hooray for me      Great job rapping, now the second hand knows your name   And it’s playing bloody knuckles with your 15 minutes of fame   That’s bout off the top ten list just a stain   But everything looks better when you put it in a frame   Just hang it next to that impressive portrait of your pain   And nag about how it’s unfortunate to be the same   Charge ‘em for repeat because your mouth’s quick thanks for comin’   Superstar mystique couldn’t see what but it was stunnin’   Get every rhythm and crowd buzzin’   Till that old fat lady is too weak to sing above it   So it’s over when it’s muffled by the rumble of her stomach   Or somebody tends to shovel thinkin’ they finally struck it   For the deeper meaning thinkers who treasures the whoopee cushion   And a fresh new grave you already put your foot in   Sitting on a secret now you’re embarrassed for looking   And that big red button looks about right for pushing   Some of us took the magic beans for food   So whoever farts the loudest is obviously the truth   And what could make me prouder than pourin’ salt in the wounds   Of them kids that still believe cows jump over moons   Something to do while makin’ sure you all stay dizzy   Ball up the fists squeeze the life out of pretty   Wait until their back’s turned, screaming,, don’t hit me   And they’ll find no pity because the sign said kick me      I get paid to breathe, hooray for me, hooray for me, hooray for me   I get paid to breathe, hooray for me, hooray for me, hooray for me   I get paid to breathe, hooray for me, hooray for me, hooray for me