Busdriver - Worlds to Run (feat. Milo and Anderson .Paak) | Текст песни

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• Busdriver
• Worlds to Run (feat. Milo and Anderson .Paak)

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This slack-jaw mealy-mouth
I mumble when I'm 'round the house
I'm trying not to do no chores today
Crying in my underwear
I lost my sense of wonder, there
No, I'm not Milan Kundera
Though this lightness is unbearable
The feeling is indelible
I'm wishing I could teleport somewhere
Transmolecularize through the secular eye
I remember when Vegeta stomped Bardock's neck in
Two prayer hands to the heavens
Good Lord, bless Him
I was a broke slob watching Ghost Dog
Writing Post Hoc
If I could muster just one good throat chop
And honor my shidoshi
Because 'dim mak' means 'death touch'
I been Spock, I been clutch
In thin socks, I'm butthurt
Impervious pervert with niggerish fervour
Crashing Linux server
Who didn't to change his laundry over
Who needs to buy toilet paper
Indie rapper, sorta faker
'Cuz I couldn't afford a mortgage or a Studebaker
'Cuz I couldn't afford a mortgage or a Studebaker

[Chorus: Anderson.paak]
When you're deep in the raw
Everybody wants to get a piece of your heart
There's only so much truth you can keep in your bowl
Speak your piece, but words are too harsh

[Busdriver:]
Overspoke my piece
Alone in the streets
?
When you're deep in the wrong
There's only so much truth you can keep in your jaw
I can run the world from my mama's house [x3]
I can run the world

When you're deep in the wrong
There's only so much truth you can keep in your jaw
'Till it bleeds through the wall

[Verse 2: Busdriver]
Every song responds to a threat
Every laundered dollar's wet
But a mom's ? saunter breath
But as long as I can ponder the depth
And the king's sorta stinks of lunacy ?
I roam the rink and ? jinx of the moon and the sea ?
Bankers clink drinks of the uplinked to the sphinx's coonery
I'm on the brink, I could fill my sink with the king's jewelery
Yeah, who is he? Driver. I am from a dead world
Sole practitioner of his customs and know the RPM of your head twirl
Driver, hold this, my daughter, ?
Old enough to vote
Rap songs blowing up on the close royal subjects
Roaming up that smoke cuz I dig
Take terms, ? perch ?
Yeah. And the ? ? is Winterfell ? ? ?
Get your cell ? from Mike Citadel
Exact an explicit Hell
Empty the fire and sway
My music on Pirate's Bay as my elusive alliances fray
I collude with a silent clay and infuse a vibrant day
With a soothing eye of decay -- put food on the dining tray
Yeah, I can do this my way