- Lyrics
- Album list
- Singer Intro
Spose( Ryan Michael Peters )
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That's That
[Verse 1:Spose]
Let it ride, Flo Ride, Yes sir!
My brethren habitate
Wells, Maine
Where the skiess are clear
Dad's gut deer
And sip upon Shipyard beer
We attend house parties
And try to get loose
And when we're drunk driving home
We try not to hit moose
Me, I come from familial disfunction
I'll be hiding in my room
Loudly bumping to smashing pumpkins
'The world is a vampire'
Dirtier than toilettes
I stay lit like campfires
Just to avoid it
It's a cold world
My mom can't even start her Cutlass
We got hicks with no bicuspids
In the bushes busting muskets
We peruse lightless roads
Blazing, dodging possums
As private business degenerates into public gossip
Baby pine, moose, lobster
Wealthy folks cohabitate
With the impoverished
In a sense, the innosense has been demolished
I mean, you see four wheelers, I see drug dealers
The underbelly's less obvious
The contrast alarming
The youthfull residence once dreamed of departing
Just, to set presidence like Polk,Taft, Harding
Resort to jail coke, we're the army
Baby, I know you wanna leave
Instead inhale marijauna leaves
Which makes sense
Like the dude collecting bottles constantly
Follow me, wannabe, as we wallow in mediocrity
We'll play that life lottery
We'll get to where ought to be
[Hook:]
I'm aware that the world is cold
A lot of shit out there that I don't know
And if we don't ever make it anywhere then I guess that's that, like that, like that, like that
Hope that doesn't happen to me
And if it does I'll probably get somewhere that I wanted to be
And that's exactly how I'll live 'till then
Yeah dude, that's that
[Verse 2: Spose]
Spizzy kinda like a sloth or a lemur
I sleep past noon, lackadaisical demeanor
No job, olds mobile and no Beamer
Dirty clothes, from spose medulla to his femur
And as I'm ballin' hard like the Maryland Terrapins
I know children are perishing
Suicide vans in Bethlehem, no Christmas carrloin'
I blame nobody but american arrogance
I mean, shit, we created the damn terrorists
Open up the fridge on MTV Cribs
As miserable kids starve with visible ribs
Is it murder when I trash half my bacon cheeseburger?
Dirty water slaughters daughters in countries we never heard of
American childs raised up in Wal-Mart aisle's
With McDonald's cups
Line them up
Single file
While kids die from pandemics
We don't get
Or that Speed Stick workin' and we just don't sweat it
You see in my town, the population's all white
And my mom's a secretary like Madelin Albright
It's alright, in Maine it's not 'The Cold Vein'
And I'm not Clare Danes, but shit, this is My So Called Life
[Hook: Spose]
(Guitar solo by Chris Quint)
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