Swampwater
Recently, I was up in Colorado (if there's a deep in here calling)
And I was standing upon a mountain (there has to be a deep to respond to that call)
Tell your boy I only want the crippy with the red hairs
Same one from when Giuliani was mayor, the science is clear
Words chosen more carefully when the threat of violence in the air
Don't wait 'til it's too late, come round to the fact you is a square (me too)
Just tryna eat, I don't wanna see how the beef prepared
In their pens, the sheep is scared
Penitentiary blues if the opps run your tier, one tear
40 hours a week plus the commute, it's really no time for fear
Maybe here and there, over your grave, a goose change gears
The science is weird
Mayans never counted to here, dying sun glare through thin atmosphere
Windshield smeared, AC blasting old air
Standstill traffic, human landfills dot the landscape, ravaged
Trousers on the ape, but he still savage
Wowzers on the taste, I went right back, copped the whole package
Your man's not great, but I do chuckle at the ad-libs
Life is short, who am I to judge how you terror manage?
No three line on the court and my kicks is canvas
To put it on Al's speakers' the only reason I flew to Los Angeles
Chengdu taste, crosstown, midday, I defy the establishment
And I was standing upon a mountain (there has to be a deep to respond to that call)
Tell your boy I only want the crippy with the red hairs
Same one from when Giuliani was mayor, the science is clear
Words chosen more carefully when the threat of violence in the air
Don't wait 'til it's too late, come round to the fact you is a square (me too)
Just tryna eat, I don't wanna see how the beef prepared
In their pens, the sheep is scared
Penitentiary blues if the opps run your tier, one tear
40 hours a week plus the commute, it's really no time for fear
Maybe here and there, over your grave, a goose change gears
The science is weird
Mayans never counted to here, dying sun glare through thin atmosphere
Windshield smeared, AC blasting old air
Standstill traffic, human landfills dot the landscape, ravaged
Trousers on the ape, but he still savage
Wowzers on the taste, I went right back, copped the whole package
Your man's not great, but I do chuckle at the ad-libs
Life is short, who am I to judge how you terror manage?
No three line on the court and my kicks is canvas
To put it on Al's speakers' the only reason I flew to Los Angeles
Chengdu taste, crosstown, midday, I defy the establishment
Credits
Writer(s): F. Porter For The Happiest Africans (sesac)
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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