fuck this job.com

I'm just so fucking sick of all the shit. What a meaningless fuckin retarded shit of a job. It makes me ill to my stomach the way things operate. Everyone is out there looking for mistakes, just looking to lynch someone for one little fuck up. Its fucking sick, then you have the chosen ones who avoid blame and pass along to someone else EVEN WHEN THEY FUCKING DESERVE IT. I've been there 18 months and I've seen this one fuckin bitch, a slut who calls in sick twice a month and dresses like a skank even though she is OBESE, get two promotions since then. On top of that her daddy was fired for stealing. It seems like thats what you have to do in this company, be a fucked up, fat, illiterate skanky junkie who can't even show up on time for a shift that starts in the late morning. This retarded cunt makes more money than the girls who slave away in customer service everyday and are RELIABLE SOLID WORKERS. Makes me sick to my motherfuckin stomach. I just want to walk in there, clean out my desk and say goodbye to some of the ok people and walk out waving my middle finger at all the cunts. Fuck this gay ass recession making everyone hold onto their jobs for dear life, this isn't how its supposed to me.
'k I'm gonna take a walk and listen to some Public Enemy, maybe it'll bring out my anger in a positive way.

Prophets Of Rage

With vice I hold the mike device
With force I keep it away of course
And I'm keepin' you from sleepin'
And on stage I rage
And I'm rollin'
To the poor I pour in on in metaphors
Not bluffin', it's nothin'
That we ain't did before
We played you stayed
The points made
You consider it done
By the prophets of rage
(Power of the people say)

I roll with the punches so I survive
Try to rock 'cause it keeps the crowd alive
I'm not ballin', I'm just callin'
But I'm past the days of yes y'allin'
Wa wiggle round and round
I pump, you jump up
Hear my words my verbs
And get juiced up
I been around a while
You can descibe my sound
Clear the way
For the prophets of rage
(Power of the people say)

I rang ya bell
Can you tell I got feelin'
Just peace at least
Cause I want it
Want it so bad
That I'm starvin'
I'm like Garvey
So you can see B
It's like that, I'm like Nat
Leave me the hell alone
If you don't think I'm a brother
Then check the chromosomes
Then check the stage
I declare it a new age
Get down for the prophets of rage
Keep you from gettin' like this

You back the track
You find we're the quotable
You emulate
Brothers, sisters thats beautiful
Follow a path
Of positivity you go
Some sing it or rap it
Or harmonize it through Go-Go
Little you know but very
Seldom I do party jams
About a plan

I'm considered the man
I'm the recordable
But God made it affordable
I say it, you play it
Back in your car or even portable
Stereo
Describes my scenario
Left or right, Black or White
They tell lies in the books
That you're readin'
It's knowledge of yourself
That you're needin'
Like Vescey or Prosser
We have a reason why
To debate the hate
That's why we're born to die
Mandela, cell dweller, Thatcher
You can tell her clear the way for the prophets of rage
(Power of the people you say)

It's raw and keepin' you on the floor
Its soul and keepin' you in control
It's pt. 2 cause I'm
Pumpin' what you're used to
Until the whole juice crew
Gets me in my goose down
I do the rebel yell
And I'm the duracell
Call it plain insane
Brothers causein' me pain
When a brothers a victim
And the sellers a dweller in a cage
Yo, run the a capella
(Power of the people say)