Lyrics:
Bullet wounds don't be covered by ObamaCare
Your funeral was way too soon, that's if your mama there
Real niggas deserve to live twice
Plastic fork
of dreams it's Californication
It's the edge of the world and all of western civilization
The sun may rise in the East at least it's settled in a final
my fate and lots of loot to burn, a hustler's yearn
For this dirty money earned as this crooked world turns
Ha ha, as the world turns,
And turns
(Brrt, brrt) Three ninety two, switch it out with the cat
I count a million right here on my lap
Bought a new Spider then take off the plastic
I
As they walk into the hospital, Henrik and Betty are greeted by a Doctor.
Hi Henrik, I am doctor Krill, from the ocean pollution department. I am
hard to love when that wind starts storming
Wenona got pregnant by the western wind
And this is another story of how it all begins
She got abandoned,
through crowds on South Western's line
To leave this grey forest
Asking "How blessed am I?"
It's Fucking Awesome, see, it's written on my chest in white
remember this
Running outta sand I had to start killing shit
I'm in the booth like where the embalmed fluid at
I use to have a lot of goals fear held me back
the only set I claim
I ain't bothered by the politics of fame
I perform, they put on, that's the norm
trying to get me on a song like baller this, shooter
Pulled into the parking lot, parked it
Zipped up my parka, joined the procession of marchers
In my head like, "is this awkward?
Should I even be
Roll
This the way we roll (Roll)
This the way we roll (Roll)
This the way we roll
(Roll)
Assuming
Wattayameeann (Mm)
Hear a lot of shit that's tragic
Outshinin' them fakes smile plastic tears
Like last year, niggaz stuck in the past, and it's clear
Just some busta ass bastards allergic to cash this year
Hillman Hall
Who wrote Pass Me By for Johnny Rodriguez and a lot of good country and
western songs
And when you get one of your favorite songwriters
Night has come
Night has come
Night has come
In the land that is dark
Night has come
Night has come
I spent a lot of holidays alone (Alone)
Who’s
crowds on South Western's line
To leave this grey forest, asking, how blessed am I?
It's fucking awesome, see, it's written on my chest in white
Some dirty
not even by a bad soul
Fuck Jed and Chad, it's Jay, Prince, and Brad
Ain't enough bullshit in the states to come stop this
Rap-A-Lot Mafia shit, yeah
and told me to take my mind off that weed
Now by the third day of Christmas, my big homeboy gave to me
A whole lot of everything, and it wasn't nuthin' but
Crying for yo momma knowing you about to be taken out
Pull up by the riverbed
Then cut the lights
Disposable gloves
And a bike kit right
Deep breaths
This
The cause is Ozymandian
The map of Sapokanikan
Is sanded and beveled
The land lone and levelled
By some unrecorded and powerful hand
Which
of this grass and to pop my glasses
I feel so alone and loved by no one
By no one, By no one
Day after day
My pain is getting bigger
There's a hole in my
out this is Beck, and uh
Beck I wanted to ask you a question
I recently picked up this 10
Inch record of yours
It's called A Western Harvest
Field by
with you by my side
Grippin' woodgrain, smoking ponderosa pine
Conversations in the stars, constellations in your eyes
Tonight (Oh yeah, yeah, yeah)
all what it seems but baby girl I can pretend
I know this shit seems easy baby but it took a lot for me to win
I know it seems too easy how I can walk
thought that i ain't notice
Stay wit drugs but high off life for the moment
Something like a constellation shining on yo tv
Blinded by the vv's in front
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