Waste Away
Sit here and I waste away, I waste away
Sit here and I waste away, waste away
Sit here and I waste away, I need a place to stay
I need to get away from it, holding on to something
I don't know, it's just the highs and lows
I guess I gotta go, I'll meet you in the cold, yeah
Sit here and I waste away, I waste away
Sit here and I waste away, I need a place to stay
I need to get away from it, I'm holding on to something
I don't know, it's just the highs and lows
I guess I gotta go, I'll meet you in the cold
In the cold, yeah, sit here and I waste away
Yeah, aye
Yeah, the days be passing by I'm in the sky I'm fucking floating
I ain't worried about a thing besides my wallet and my wifey
I don't want my wrist icy, just want tats on my body
This a passion not a hobby, getting rich like I'm Roddy
I kill 'em one by one, I count the bodies
Got 'em running back to mommy when they fold like origami
Get a bravo like I'm Johnny, I'm the Clyde to her Bonnie
We rob a fucking bank and count the money in the lobby
And I've been a little sloppy with the music but I do it
Don't confuse it to me losing it
I'm not a lunatic, and I'm intuitive
They treat me like a fugitive, cause I'm behind the bars
That go so hard it should be lucrative
I'm chilling in Havana with cigars and some gratuities, I'm living life in unity
I'm moving through communities with endless opportunities
The quantities are option-less, the void I'm in is bottomless
An action with a consequence, I'm lacking on the confidence
Sit here and I waste away, waste away
Sit here and I waste away, I need a place to stay
I need to get away from it, holding on to something
I don't know, it's just the highs and lows
I guess I gotta go, I'll meet you in the cold, yeah
Sit here and I waste away, I waste away
Sit here and I waste away, I need a place to stay
I need to get away from it, I'm holding on to something
I don't know, it's just the highs and lows
I guess I gotta go, I'll meet you in the cold
In the cold, yeah, sit here and I waste away
Yeah, aye
Yeah, the days be passing by I'm in the sky I'm fucking floating
I ain't worried about a thing besides my wallet and my wifey
I don't want my wrist icy, just want tats on my body
This a passion not a hobby, getting rich like I'm Roddy
I kill 'em one by one, I count the bodies
Got 'em running back to mommy when they fold like origami
Get a bravo like I'm Johnny, I'm the Clyde to her Bonnie
We rob a fucking bank and count the money in the lobby
And I've been a little sloppy with the music but I do it
Don't confuse it to me losing it
I'm not a lunatic, and I'm intuitive
They treat me like a fugitive, cause I'm behind the bars
That go so hard it should be lucrative
I'm chilling in Havana with cigars and some gratuities, I'm living life in unity
I'm moving through communities with endless opportunities
The quantities are option-less, the void I'm in is bottomless
An action with a consequence, I'm lacking on the confidence
Credits
Writer(s): Christian Pino
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
© 2025 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.