Brezzo - Just Buy It [Prod: Chris Clay] [@DJGREN8DE + DJ BANNED]

Might Be The Money

Mixed & Produced by chrisclay. 
Hosted by @djsmlimebxll

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@1brezzo @chrisclay__  @refinite on ig

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fire lake

Colton Stanley, 14, saw a mountain of dirty dishes as the ultimate enemy. The soapy water, the soggy food bits—it was a nightmare. He'd much rather be on his PlayStation, lost in a new game, or kicking a soccer ball around with his friends at the park. His mom, however, was unyielding. "Colton," she'd say, "these aren't going to wash themselves." He'd try everything to get out of it, from claiming he had too much homework to bargaining for an extra week of chores, but she always stood her ground. To him, the dishes were the one thing standing between him and absolute freedom, an endless pile of rebellion he just couldn't win.... and with that, 
KID A was born.

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"Kid A Hate Doing Dishes"
(from his diary entry dated, Aug. 14, 2025)


Yo… I had plans, man.
Controller in my hand, Wi-Fi on demand,
Button-mashin’ battles, Fortnite on the stand,
Maybe bike ride, maybe TV, maybe just nap,
But nah—Mom drops the bomb: “Get your hands in the tap.”
Man, I’d rather count ceiling cracks ‘til I die,
Than scrub somebody else’s spaghetti pie.
I just wanna lay in bed, let the day float by,
Instead I’m sink-deep in my own alibi.


Pick up a plate—great, now it’s slick like slime,
Looks like it’s been here since two thousand and nine,
Chunk of mystery meat—what even is that?
Feels like it bit back when I poked it with the spat.
Water scaldin’ hot, then it’s ice-cube cold,
Suds up my sleeves like they’re ten years old,
Forks with gunk wedged tight like ancient glue,
Spoon lookin’ like it survived a barbecue.
And don’t get me started on the glass with the ring,
Who drank milk, left it out—man, that’s a crime scene thing.


I don’t wanna do these dishes, no, no, no,
Every cup, every bowl, every fork—oh no,
Rather be anywhere else, but here I go,
Scrubbin’ like my life’s a low-budget show.
I don’t wanna do these dishes, no, no, no,
But I’m stuck in the soap, in the suds, in the flow,
Every plate’s a boss fight, I just can’t cope,
Yeah, I’m losin’ my mind—pass me the dish soap.


Nah, nah, nah—this is torture disguised as a chore,
Like a war on my hands, man, a germ-spore war,
Got sludge in the sponge, got slime in the sink,
Every time I touch somethin’ I stop, gag, think:
“Why me? Why here? Why this filth, right now?”
Whole kitchen smell like a dead cow’s pow-wow,
I’m scrappin’ at a skillet that could break my wrist,
Like I’m fightin’ Excalibur—if it smelled like fish.
Grease fight back, man, it laughs in my face,
Soap slip-slides like it’s tryin’ to escape,
My brain’s in a rage, my patience a ghost,
Every sud-bubble pop just makin’ me roast.
Drip-drip, on my socks, now the floor’s my foe,
I’m skatin’ in spaghetti juice—yo, this is low,
Knives in the water like sharks in a tank,
One wrong move, now my hand’s in the bank.
I’m elbow-deep in the muck, and I’m losin’ my grip,
Whole process slower than a Netflix clip,
I’m a prisoner here, I can’t break free,
This ain’t dishwashing—it’s dishwashing me.


I don’t wanna do these dishes, no, no, no,
Every cup, every bowl, every fork—oh no,
Just touching the yuck, now my fingers are stuck,
I’m scrubbing this crud and I’m runnin’ outta luck.
I don’t wanna do these dishes, no, no, no,
But I’m stuck in the soap, in the suds, in the flow,
Every plate’s a boss fight, I just can’t cope,
Yeah, I’m losin’ my mind—pass me the dish soap.


WHY IS THIS MY JOB?!
I didn’t make that stew!
I didn’t eat that pie!
I didn’t pour that goo!
I’m a prisoner of porcelain, chained to the sud,
Hands in the trenches, elbow-deep in crud!


Thirty minutes later, sink’s squeaky and bare,
I’m sweaty, I’m tired, and soap’s in my hair,
I grab my controller, I slump in my chair—
…and Mom says, “Good job, now take out the trash.”
(…man, I quit.)

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Hate Dish Doin' (feat. KID A)

soundcloud:tracks:1592656351