The Grave and the Constant
I used to wear dress blues, I used to get my cues
From the dudes in D.C. with the wing tip shoes
And my boss said it was Paris or prison
And the judge said, "Son, you better make your decision"
I chose the former because I heard it was warmer
April in Paris, hell south of the border
They put me together, tougher than leather
They set me on your ass because they didn't know better
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Now I hold the fort left, right and center
The number running hard ass punk, fly girl bender
Check the photo finish, I'm in this to satisfy parole
Not posing not playing the role
See I got more gumbas than Bobby De Niro
And if I was you I'd act like Nixon and Spiro
So drink your rock and smoke your pot and chill where it's shady
I got more endurance than in-A-Gadda-Da-Vida baby
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
I'm up to no good, with no place to go but down
I'm up to no good, with no place to go but down
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
From the dudes in D.C. with the wing tip shoes
And my boss said it was Paris or prison
And the judge said, "Son, you better make your decision"
I chose the former because I heard it was warmer
April in Paris, hell south of the border
They put me together, tougher than leather
They set me on your ass because they didn't know better
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Now I hold the fort left, right and center
The number running hard ass punk, fly girl bender
Check the photo finish, I'm in this to satisfy parole
Not posing not playing the role
See I got more gumbas than Bobby De Niro
And if I was you I'd act like Nixon and Spiro
So drink your rock and smoke your pot and chill where it's shady
I got more endurance than in-A-Gadda-Da-Vida baby
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
I'm up to no good, with no place to go but down
I'm up to no good, with no place to go but down
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
Credits
Writer(s): Brian Andrew Leiser, Hugh Thomas Morgan, Stephen Byron Borgovini
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.