Eaten Alive

Jeff ParkerJeff Parker 

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Jeff Parker

Jeff Parker is an American jazz and rock guitarist based in Chicago. Parker is best known as an experimental musician, working with avant-garde electronic, rock, and improvisational groups. more »

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Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Don't you step a foot up in the swamp with your gators on
That's redundant when one takes a foot
And I ain't never slicked up in your city uninvited
Wish a motherfucker would
Stay put, this shot is heavy
Your frame light (light)
You're more than six degrees and can't explain the life

When the f*ck the swamp turn into real estate?
Spirits in the weeping willows heavyweight
Spirits out the bathtub for the every day
Heavy mists got vision cloudy anyway
Any way they go they never get away
Shotgun in the shed and he can't wait to play
F*ck up a dollar general for Gatorade
It's gators waiting in the water, chillin'
F*ck it, he can wait
Grab a motherfucker and then fade away
Wrestle with the scales until the break of day
Bullet through a bottle, like it's breakaway
Shattered glass amassing on the grasses where the babies play
Bleeding feet could bring the beast out any day
Bleeding hearts come teach him, thinking they could save
They maybe should save their favors for a rainy day
It's way too many dead around for fake-ass prayers to make a way

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Don't you step a foot up in the swamp with your gators on
That's redundant when one takes a foot (take that)
I ain't never slicked up in your city uninvited
Wish a motherfucker would
Stay put, this shot is heavy, your frame light
You're more than six degrees and can't explain the life

When the f*ck the swamp turn into fashion week?
Used to be pull up here flashy wouldn't last a week
Used to stand out by just standing 'til he atrophied
Stitches tattooed on his lips so he don't have to speak
Hood commando flip a gram up to a half a key
Pop a band up out the bando 'bout a half a week
Pimpin' partners lock it down, they feel like Master P
You ain't in the trap house 'less you got a master key
The rims are thirty inches here because the grass is deep
Gold on his molars 'cause he only got 'bout half his teeth
You passing through to spread your gospel, you gon' have to leave
Wrapped up in a casket are the only ones that pass to see
Most cues ain't verbal, why you wasting time with flattery?
All kings are bastards 'round here, that just happens naturally
Bathwater babies creep up out the bayou magically
And leave your brains behind the outhouse in the grass for cats to eat

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Don't you step a foot up in the swamp with your gators on
That's redundant when one takes a foot (take that)
I ain't never slicked up in your city uninvited
Wish a motherfucker would
Stay put, this shot is heavy, your frame light
You're more than six degrees and can't explain the life

You never lived, you never leave, it's curtains
The fog over the swamp should make you nervous
Take the chorus
They weighed the water child
Highest to the demons speaking english via crocodile
Cock a smile sideways, church for Sunday
Sometimes that shit you didn't know more dangerous than gunplay

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