Poor Boy WSTR

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[Verse 1]
You do what you love, put your blood, sweat, tears into it
They love what you do, it's a deal, can't get out of it and
I was throwing out the pens and paper
I keep running, but it's smell you later

[Chorus]
I'm a poor boy from the country
What does Los Angeles want with me?
Sitting at my desk last week
Now I'm tryna be forgotten

[Verse 2]
Look at me, look at me, look at me
Me and my ego sitting in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
Nothing new, boy, I do it every week
I'm a rockstar, punk rock though
Soccer mom kind, there's some Chicago
Shitty business at the rock show
Looking good, bro, where's your head, though?

[Refrain]
I'm not gonna lie, but it kinda hurts a little bit
Especially when I try to think
I can smell a thousand rhymеs running in the thick of it
Something's gonna start to stink (Ha)