A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Spose

"That's That"

[Verse 1]
Let it ride, Flo Ride, Yes sir!

My brethren habitate Wells, Maine
Where the skies 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 dysfunction
I'll be hiding in my room loudly bumping to Smashing Pumpkins
"The world is a vampire" dirtier than toilets
I stay lit like campfires just to avoid it
It's a cold world, my mom can't even start her Cutlass
Hicks with no bicuspids in the bushes busting muskets
We peruse light-less 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 innocence has been demolished
I mean, you see four-wheelers, I see drug dealers
The underbelly's less obvious
The contrast alarming
The youthful residents once dreamed of departing
Just to set precedence like Polk, Taft, Harding
Resort to jail, coke, or the army
Baby, I know you wanna leave
Instead inhale marijuana 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 sh*t 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, Oldsmobile 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 carolin'
I blame nobody but American arrogance
I mean, sh*t, 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 hearda
Americans' childs raised up in WalMart aisles
With McDonald's cups
Line them up single file
While kids die from pandemics
We don't get
All that Speed Stick's working and we just don't sweat it
You see in my town, the population's all white
And my mom's a secretary like Madeleine Albright
It's alright, and Maine's not "The Cold Vein"
And I'm not Clare Danes, but sh*t, this is my so-called life

[Hook: Spose]

(Guitar solo by Chris Quint)

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


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