Riot Nrrrd - 2 Skinnee J's

This song goes out to those with coke bottle glasses 
To all you lonely kids who were the last pick in gym classes 
We got your back - detract your malefactors 
All you up in the back unite like Thundercats 
Get up, get up, 'cause we're fed up, fed up 
Try to rise and keep your head up, head up 
Leave the kinging to Kong, we'll be singing our song 
Bring it on, bring it on, bring it on 
It's a sentimental journey 
Presenting sentiments of resentment that would burn me 
Unearthing archives of sharp knives turning blunt 
My road is to unfold, so I gotta face the front 
I used to spend my days dazed and confused 
16 year underdog still donning Under-roos 
Sorry Busta, I know my flow sounds used 
Written and directed by the likes of John Hughes 
Recycled recitals of rewritten idylls 
Are scrawled in the hall like Anthony Michael 
I lack land and title, just one of the boys 
On islands and islands of misfit toys 
CHORUS

My field of dreams was a parking lot 
With hot shots doing donuts and pissin' off the grown-ups 
Me on the side writing unrequited love letters 
That I would send to my imaginary girlfriend 
I had to pretend cuz I never played football 
The kid drafted last pick at the roll call 
To ease the monotony of everybody mockin me 
I spent time to tend rhymes like botany 
Now what I wanna be? What you wanna be? 
Maybe famous, I claim this, try to gain this 
But sometimes it's heinous the way the shameless 
Surround me like a tide and drown me 
So I'm looking for intelligent life forms 
I'm looking for a blip on the screen 
So I can reach out and touch somebody, anybody 
Everybody

Oooo Wah Oooo Wah Oooo Wah, Oooo Oooo Oooo Oooo