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Got it

Robots Can't Drink

Album: Freestyle Friday
By:
e-dubble

Duration

5:07

Genres

Hip-Hop

Lyrics

verse 1: they wanna know the state of that union what we're all immune too what the fuck we clapping for? what the fuck the shrooms do? where the fuck my drink go? tryna get my head clear tryna figure out the path we took to just get here no cheers, no sounds quiet while they contemplate searching for the storyline tryna to finally consummate ...or was it consummate. pronounce dominance salute to the narrative somebody's live blogging it up so we in realtime status says "lovin' it" til' they let that motherfucker go and cop a double clip and what's the reason for it? and is it treason for a middle path temper to be agitated even more? or do we stick to one side and never pole vault? never shake and bake no lawry's no salt and no spice to it, I put the ice to it turpentine don hard enough to cut right through it chorus: we put our heart in, to pull the words out with a glass in the hand pull the nerves out you hear a pin drop, but your ears close while the notes keep playing for your heroes live through circuits run that routine find your purpose tie your shoe strings i take solace in my looseleaf what's your poison can it soothe me i stay drinking verse 2: i am on that chevy volt cold shit no i'm never gassed up boogaloo electric never pull a fast one i ain't into gimmicks but the people want an image so I'm Mr. Transparent while the ferris wheel's spinning rat race I am truant to it... hollerin' Bueller we're just at the tailgate... brought our own cooler fuck that stress shit, who's got next game? connect 4 while we run that chess game i'm only playing when i'm laughing with ansari snapping at these fuckers tryna figure out antares auto-tune slow pokes they are pretty charming jambox jammed up... back to the Laundry cuz' this is real life, no frills, real pain cheap vodka and a couple tanks of propane we need heat even if it's only thursday 52 weeks, 53 happy birthdays verse 3: at the end of the day there are no real differences tryna dodge the bitterness of that griffin kid family guy's peter pan they missing it tryna fly high stay young blake griffin shit -business end of the stick they on that chuck sheen hate what they've become even with the luxury 2 and a half men, I am more like 3 in one i don't mean to brag but I feel I got the midas touch golden, yes I'm feeling golden tryna make those pained past days seem olden throw a fucking fist up, we are never folding origami mama's get they labias swollen i will put it on you, it will never wash off this ink is indeliable throw away the wash cloth throw away the soap box, i be on the main stage flipping the looseleaf now we're on the same page cuz' we put verse 4: still killing the average, still looking for change still dodging the arrows, still paving the lane still drinking the poison tryna to stay sane thumbs up, blue skies, green grass all day sunny side it... no more fuckin' hiding no more second fiddle shit, let em' play biden we don't autopilot, never on cruise control we are mashing pedals in tell them fellas move along tell em' make a little room, tell em make a bigger room tell em' its a starter pistol, let em' pull the trigger too let em get their groove back tell em it's what stella did they ain't even listening, they don't know what stellar is they don't know the cellar shit, they don't know the basement they don't know where the tascam or the tapes went tell those fuckers everything, build a fucking covenant show em' how you do it too, let em' know you love this shit

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