Washed Up

[Hook: Ritchie with a T]
Why is everyone in my town oh so wishy, wishy
Wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy-washed up?
And every time I come around, it's all wishy, wishy
Wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy-washed up
Why is everyone in my town oh so wishy, wishy
Wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy-washed up?
And every time I come around, it's all wishy, wishy
Wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy-washed up

[Verse 1: Ritchie with a T]
Why, why, why, why? Priorities flip-flopped up
Too settled, too comfortable, why's everyone so caught up?
Why's everyone so balled up? Why's everyone gon’ follow?
Why's everyone thinking just like they grandpops and they grandmama?
Where's the, yeah, where's the real crafters?
I'm tired of being put on the same pedestal as these half-assers
I'm tired of being boxed in, I'm tired of no profit
I'm tired of people now with us just because we poppin'

[Hook]
Why is everyone in my town oh so wishy, wishy
Wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy-washed up?
And every time I come around, it's all wishy, wishy
Wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy-washed up
Why is everyone in my town oh so wishy, wishy
Wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy-washed up?
And every time I come around, it's all wishy, wishy
Wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy, wishy-washed up

[Verse 2: Stepa J. Groggs]
I hate going home because it's always crowded
Never trust my judgment 'cause it's always clouded
If I got some liquor, best believe I'll down it
Y'all be like "I feel you," but I really doubt it
We about to run this, you gon' wish and watch me
Fans are like politicians, hella wishy-washy
But I can't even talk because I've done the same
One minute, that's your favorite, next minute, that nigga's lame
But I guess that's how it goes
Love to see you coming up, but they hate to see you blow
Wanna hear the same old shit, never wanna hear you grow
It's that blah-blah-blah shit that everybody know
But if you tryna box us in, you know you got me really, really
Really, really, really, really, really, really fucked up
And I'm always one shot away from being really, really
Really, really, really, really, really, really fucked up

[Verse 3: Ritchie with a T]
You Mr. Me Too's, I'm Mr. Miyagi
I fathered these niggas, this shit is a hobby
You Daniel Son-ass niggas, man, these niggas is washy
The different cats all the same, man, we need to applaud them
Man, this shit is a problem
Why is everyone thinking like they granduncles and auntie?
Settled with who they are, leaving no room for some progress
Will kiss some ass for a title, man, they remind me of Congress
But flip the script, flip names like Muhammad Ali
Shaheed Muhammad scratch the surface I lay, backwards Ali
Thanks to Trinidad James, half my friends are popping mollies
But Chance is cool, so they'll start dropping acid probably