Lyrics:
It’s 3 o’clock in the morning
And I’m all alone
Body tossing and turning
Wish you’d pick up the phone
Don’t wanna live another lie
Don’t wanna see
headed to the top top top top . 5 4 3 2 1 shot clock . Times up I am coming for the
Spot spot spot spot
No funny I am headed for the spot
Yeah brinks
GRABS HER STUFF AND LEAVES.
SCENE TWO — MAIN HALLWAY
SCENE OPENS WITH SAM HOLDING A KID BY HIS COLLAR AND
PUSHING HIM AGAINST A LOCKER.
KID: LET ME GO!
as I touch down
Took a gamble with my life and I lucked out
Old sis need 'bout 3 or 4 bussdowns
I been uptown, just don't call
See how I ball they ain't
to the ground with his knees crumpled up
But it T'wasnt I hit him t'was the johnny jump
And the next thing I met down in Youghal by the Sea
Was a cripple
the trap door
Triage nurse nursery rhymes us to the front line
There's a clock on the floor step on it in good time
You see some treason just don't
One two
three four
bodies stacked up on the floor
five six
six six
more bodies thrown in a ditch
Carving up a mannequin
I sit here by myself
All I've got is all you need
Hit the brakes up on the curb leaned into the horn
Mary shouted I'll be right down from the window on the second floor
Her
to the face as we walked across the bridge
Had a lil flat on the third floor up
Had a couple moments lookin' down could've just jumped
Man the pavement tough
I
of heat
Y'all can't do nothing with this here
For one, I pack three 9s like the year
Y'all funny money hustlas
7 gram hustlas
Type to bust a O down wit ya
pumping gotta get my groove on
Everybody's on the floor getting down
Players on the wild trying to spread the mack around
Red alert cause the bar's
r-r-running
Grip a two three yeah I'ma blast that (ima blast that)
She say I'm one of the illest
Pull a drive by Inside my haz mat (inside my haz mat)
Big dog
moved three hours fucking north
And when we'd break up you done laid my heart out on the floor
From constant make up sex to break up texts we're back
it gon' end
But weekends different though, we turning' up aint nothin but a send
Wild out
2 o'clock in 20 maxed out
3am passed out
4am back
Lyrics translated by HIPHOPLE.com
Nol, fytenol, f3d baby
Punchin' the clock on them, got a AR-15
They got a stock on it, you don't know Rick
play the block I ain't the type to punch your clock
I'm the type to put the metal to the floor in the drop
I live life in the fast lane, I make a grove
downstairs
Made a drink and took another look around there
3 o'clock their ain't nothing going down here
Now I'm trying to think why I'm still standing around
And, she's coming home
I got a picture of her down by the seashore
Wearing a bikini made of purple velour
Her hair's up like Conway Twitty's pompadour
faucets that weep
Hot tears splash against the shower floor
And I stand in the steam as if inside a dream
I can see her again by the sink
From behind
he would not drink it, and when they had crucified him, they divided his clothes among themselves by casting lots then they sat
down there and kept
I'm punchin' the clock
No need for screamin' at me momma, I'm out
And plus I wasn't really happy here to start with, let that be told
My own homeboy
I write the book down line by line
I'm feeling good when I do it like this
So come on and turn it up because you can't resist
Because I'm back with
you pull up
Uh, parental discretion advised I'm obliged
I wanna bend you over down by the side
Give me old school feelings with
A new school feel
Baby
I'll give you all the smoke you want
Like a dope pipe
I'll send some shivers down ya spine
Like a cold night
I put my foot right to the floor
So
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