Del The Funky Homosapien

Sleepin On My Couch

Del The Funky Homosapien


It seems nowadays friends step to me bogus 
and end up on my couch at night without notice 
it's cool to have a friend over every now and then 
but I gotta have my space 
and I don't wanna see their face 
like every single day of the week 
talk is cheap 
you betta find yourself another place to sleep 
it ain't my fault that ya moms got fed up 
and now you wanna come to my crib and wet my bed up 
you better find a job so you can get an apartment 
and you can save your crocodile tears 
don't even start 
with the sob stories 
I got enough from the other seven brothas 
in the den playin' Genesis 
damn I can't win at this 
seems like I'm gonna have to flip 
and tell those other brothas 
that they're gonna have to skip 
I've had it up to here with these lazy cats 
sleepin' on my couch and I'm tired of that 
[Chorus] 
People come to my house 
and kinda wonder where the squadron's at 
they're not gone 
they're just down at the laundrymat 
because they wear the same pairs of clothing 
I'm taking up crazy patience just holding 
my temper 
I'm about to start charging rent for 
every single brother 
that kicked it with my mother eating biscuits 
on Saturday morning like a family 
the minute they step 
it's like moms is crazy mad at me 
'cause they're in my mother's room watching television 
I feel like giving 'em the boot 
and say the hell with 'em 
but if I give 'em the boot 
I'm not a friend though 
even though my room 
smells like dime bags of indo but 
I can't pretend like I haven't been peepin' it 
even mom knows that my brothas been sleepin' 
on my couch for weeks 
so your speeches fall flat 
sleepin' on my couch and I'm tired of that 
[Chorus] 
Maybe this was just my upbringing perhaps 
but I was taught that I shouldn't 
take seven day naps 
at other brothas' cribs like I don't have a home 
brothas on my couch so much there's like foam 
coming out the seams 
and a pair of jeans is missing from my closet 
I wonder why I even bother being friendly 
they're running my ass like the Indy 5000 
they went and wrinkled my mother's blouse 
when they snuck downstairs 
for a midnight snack 
and ate the last slice of bread 
and a box of apple jacks 
then they hit the sack 
with the stereo blastin' 
and even little Tyson is fed up 
so I'm askin' 
you all to jet 
before I get upset 
and throw each and every one 
of you bums out on your back 
my house is a mess 
so step ya little pest 
who was sleepin' on my couch 'cause I'm tired of that 
[Chorus]