Lyrics:
the history of music
By night, just to pay for that shit, you'd dance
To get your pants was a mission impossible
We were both the same age but I
Suppose
the clock
Just trying to make something great
Yeah, I left the world behind
I put it all on a shelf
Now I'm surrounded by millions
But I'm all by myself
I
country-okie singer
That girl, she's a walk on the wild slide,
She's a day glow radio slow ride, low ride good time
If you see her, tell 'er I'm
Lookin' for
the hill something I never hoped to be
Even I have doubts sometimes a tough road for me
Is this the way that Glenn Gould felt taping
Songs at the r-radio
and they're pissed at me
For breaking all the fuckin rules and never missing a beat
Oh how could somebody let go
Of something so fresh and cold
Guess there's
something behind? You can never look back
Can warnings be heard in your radio silence
From shadows you cut away the cancer of crime
Only doing your job but
to Houston
Let's do something we're not used to
Bowie's alive on the radio
The map will tell us where to go
We're not here for winning or for losing
We're just
The message through the bottle
Grab the Devil by the horns full throttle
Lightning striking twice ain't too odd
When you're looking for a sign from your god
you weren't on my mind
And I went for a drive last night
But if you saw me driving by
Well I must've took a wrong turn
I must've been thinking bout
and four chords repeated
Completed by a relatable lyrical concept about an ex or something
This isn't for the masses
It's for the
musically analytical
So
These are the niggas that I die for
Something go down I know they gon' roll
Got new money and got new bitches too
But no room for new niggas, I don't
it for the show biz
Probably why I ain't making it in the show biz
I've sold a lot of shit I wonder how much for my soul then
This is the part where I
My bitch, she's like a sour patch, I love her then I hate the hoe
How the fuck we end up on the news before the radio
Brody said he gotta play for
a shit
So just, keep the grass cut. No snakes
Keep the love, dip on all fakes
Give all thanks to most high for what brings joy to life
Gamble with it role
fashion, Gucci belts is for them faggots
My hat is by Jabbia and if you got a fucking problem
With the future, you can get a death wish just like Atiba
I thought my CD was done but that's not what they say
"Do an insult track, we need it for radio play"
Cram in the names, I'll take a long hard pee
got stopped, by this shorty tryna rhyme
Manager said we ain't got time, but time to time
You gotta make time when it's time for karma to come back
Chorus:
I'll need a featherbed to lay on
For my flower bed, a hoe
A churn to make fresh butter
And I'll need a radio.
A gingham dress for Sundays
And my
upright
Make sure they got something to eat
And my daily ritual is
Protect my physical biz
I just can't see now
I choose death before the penal
'Cause what
and TV/ with crazy dough each week/Eff you pay me bro is what we speak/forget Rosetta Stone/I’m out for cheddar Holmes/until I’m chilling by my pool living
Place your ear up to the radio
What do you hear
Something about money, something about bitches
Something about bussing guns killing these niggas
Mama I told you
By now we gone get it right
Right?
You gone have to turn me up for this one
Aye
Ah yeah
Okay
Dot Wave
Decimal
Decimal
Down
Man you hell of a pussy for
The shit you did last night
I could tell you nervous right now by
How you moving your hands right
Yeah please don't fuck
that joint you did on the radio that night
(Oh) Let people know, do this one for the interviews
Do it for the people, Years In The Making
Yo, my
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