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Bed Wetter

 


That sick limp d*ck attitude,
Thought I should feel gratitude,
That you chose me then, wanted me yours,
While you had your hands on plenty, always out on all fours.

“You’re so nice, I’d love to make you my wife,”
What—because you’d already tasted the “cooler” life?
Spreading your legs for every girl in your party phase,
Now, you think I’m the one to settle and praise?

You were quick to play the game, no hesitation in sight,
But I’m just the afterthought, the one to make things right.
So you admit it: treat women like disposable trash,
But when that’s done to you, you get that rash.

I won’t apologize for being real,
For taking back the power you tried to steal.
Go ahead, crawl back to your ex's bed,
‘Cause I'm moving on, without you in my head.

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