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The Streets
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The Morning After The Day Off On One
you talk around events and from the side of your sight, the benson burns it reflects in your eyes, in the room with the computer in, listenin to music and watching old youtube shit,
how come fire and rain sometimes sound the same, look me a goodbye in my eye as i say, its too hot in here for men with blood in their veins, faded by dust and darkened by days,
theres a choral chorus, and a floral adoring fuss, for us, for dust, but youre too bold thus, you have to be bolder, youve got a big chip on your shoulder.
yo misleading with lyrics the flow need to see it clearly, cos there all on my dick and they aint even seen my image, i recourse of chips on my shoulder, and battered fishes,
i walk with a devil persona, they gather wishes, im in the hands of god and use up all my raffle tickets, when the numbers up ill rattle cages, and ill be lifted, they dont know who to show their face with
the act is finished, i was living in the matrix, but these girls dont act ,gotta cross the line, is there a limit until lost for lines, so im saying what im actually thinking, im trying to say fuck you, and you hear the inkling
subdued by the way i play with words, itll have you thinking, i wonder what would have happened if i listened to mr simpkins, and really believed that i werent shit, it has me thinking,yeah it has me winking
i probably wouldnt be this sick, it has me cringing, but you can see the finger im waving from that distance.
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