Problems

Tenth floor, complaint department

Shot 2B, take one

Rolling

Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four

But does it, uh, still make you feel insecure?

Action

I live in a frequency where action rules that God is me

In the war against my body, in the poetry of poverty

'Cause it's the rich ones who really make it

'Cause it's the rich ones who have the guts to take it

They feel fine, they feel fine

Check out complainer by the bar

Let's kick his ass and make him beg for more

Let's line him up and make him scream and shout

And show him he's got nothing to complain about

'Cause I believe in the groove complacent

So jack me up and fuck me up with entertainment

Yeah, I feel fine

It really doesn't tell you anything about that person, does it?

Look here!