Lyrics:
The excessive and elitists don't repair it when they leave it
The forest's were cleared, the factories were built
And our mistakes will be repeated
by your
rock
shows go from town to town in fuel-gobbling 45 foot trucks...and when they get there,
they use up enormous amounts of electrical energy with their
busting loose, I'm lettin go
Out on this open road
It's independence day on this lost highway
Hey hey
Hey, hey
Oh patron saint of lonely souls
Tell
patron saint of lonely souls
Tell this boy which way to go
Guide the car, you've got the keys
Farewell to mediocrity
Kicking off the cruise control
inside the (?) condo
It cost a G for this plaided Burberry poncho
Amiri, Yves Saint Laurent coat, side note
Must be on heroin thinkin' they don't fear
as the various
things and selves we have to bring and sell. I'm all up
in that with y'all, even when I go off. it's just that we
got to talk about our masks
I know, I know but I gotta get outta here
You know, I gotta go pay these bills, I got a show to do
You know, one time for your mind
Let's go
the other one lacks it
Guns are power controlled by assets owned by financial forecasters
Who are the masters? They are the gangsters, they are the bankers
I tried to stay calm I attack when Im provoked
Enough of that shit grab life by the throat
No more james saint patrick bitch its time to be ghost
is the place!"
Latter-day Saint, LDS faith
Hi, my name is Chase
(Not James?) No
(Jake?) No
(Shake?) Bro
Chase Dahla Billz, okay okay, hey, yo, let's go
go out like the last bitch!
Heh, five-oh's on my ass main
They know me by the face, but they don't know my last name
Now I'm back on the case
breathe, the suffering is real
No I can't be, I've been deceived by the offering she steals
Oh, Here we go again like a cold machine
Yeah, There she comes
Wanna go back to the days that it was you and me
Yo life past went to fast need a time machine
They say pray to God he'll give you what you need
Im
Lloyd's of London will be loaded when they go
We will all fry together when we fry
We'll be French fried potatoes by and by
There will be no more misery
(Yeahhh)
What's going on
When I go to bed at night
My eyes be open till it's dawn (Aye)
I don't spend money on bitches
Spend it all on Saint Laurent (Woo!)
to the point point point
Preaching like the Deacon
But I'm more like a saint saint saint
Mean it when I bless, since I say it from my chest
Gonna Give it my all,
the bitch he gonna rock with
They talk shit but we 'bout shit
Fly Aussie on boss shit
When he need to be, where he need to be
I tell him go on, it ain't no
a hint of remorse in me
Cold to my core feels like only in war do I ever find normalcy
Like on the beaches of Normandy
Live by the sword, I'ma die when
will be
Hm hm, oh yea
There's gonna be a great day in the morning
Go spread the news about that homecoming day
When we see Jesus and the saints in glory
Listen, yo, I roll up ready
Sky couple shots out the semi
Flex like Machine Gun Kelly
Military headgear, leather gloves ready
Dutty when the big dogs
thing to do is to just go to sleep and to wake up in a fresh day
But it's far less clear what to do when you wake up and still feel exactly the same way
Canseco
'fore they steal raw cream that I keep up in my Saints coat
I put the Cali on the map my nigga
And I'll never kiss radio or TV ass, I'll go back
And saint lauren my body
I see green all in my pocket
Really feel like drizzy I'm too sexy for this shit
Really feel like Kobe catch me ballin in the six
raised a winner
The city of Brotherly Love
Ran by the saints and the sinners
Remember the days back on Devon
I was just making a presence
Now, I stay with
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