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cool brandon - you can't dance with me lyrics
couldn’t get a job, probably have to be a grad student
all this college sh-t has got my swag ruin
people think i sound like eminem
and i say, “mama, you do not have to pretend to get my rap music
took this girl to homecoming, wake and bake
picked her -ss up and then we went to the steak and shake
conversation is my casket
so i just sat there and played with sugar packets
got more money then jeanne garafalo
buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo
always rocking with the confidence
hoes show me love, hosts show me condiments
leave the diner, gotta steal a lotta mints
kickin f-cking c-ckheads in with my consonants
cigarettes and alcohol, they yell at us for loitering
go ahead, slip it in her drink like freudian
going to dr. kevorkian cause i can’t sleep
keep waking up in cold sweats from this d-mn heat
people download your mix tape from websites
but then are like, this f-cker ain’t worth the megabytes
cracking backs in half to cats who take a crack at us
i’m so sweaty, my -ss hair’s napping up
i rap what i know, and i know about s-x
cause people like to have it with a girl
love getting mail, fills up my eagerness
got a lotta letters today all labeled “dear john”
but i made the best of it to celebrate my singleness
and put a bunch of amaretto inside of the beer bong
you can’t dance with me
you can’t dance with me
these motherf-ckers couldn’t handle me
so what the f-ck makes you think you could dance with me
you can’t dance with me
you can’t dance with me
these motherf-ckers dance like an amputee
no wonder why they can’t dance with me
they said i was the abomination of obama’s nation
that’s a pretty bad way to start a graduation
ceremony, i don’t get money, i just get naked
first rapist to make it onto your favorite playlist
kids get song ideas when i’m repping
like r kelly playing seven minutes in heaven
spin the bottle, never have i ever had to be a better
rappers then these liquored up sh-ts, i need a pick me up
fighting f-ckers, their bongs are all that hit well
traded in my green day for big l, sh-t’s swell
i’m just happy that a pretty cool black dude
says he flamboyant for life in his raps too
whip my pubic hair back and forth at that ho willow
throw it into girls without taking off the throw pillows
i can hold a mic but not a conversation
alone in my bedroom, chronic imagination
you can’t dance with me
you can’t dance with me
you used to not even be a fan of me
now your asking if you can dance with me
you can’t dance with me
you can’t dance with me
representing the bourgeoisie
but these working cl-ss b-tches can’t dance with me
im a mobster, i get your b-tch mom hurt
doing peyote at a taylor swift concert
cause i’m fearless and hung like a white horse
need to quit buying all these pre-teens five course
meals, red lobster, get my chowder on
but they keep thinking that my songs are our songs
they’re all begging, “brandon write a song for me!”
but i’m pretty sure that none of you belong with me
head inflated like economy
and i thought it was partly you and you thought it was partly me
probably a part of me that didn’t really work right
maybe i have gotten drunk and f-cked up some of your nights
one too many times, but hey that’s college
and also what you get when dating a party-aholic
go ahead and jump ship, dumb b-tch
f-ck this, i’ll get high and watch wallace and grommet
next year i picked up this girl again
only this time she told kids we’re just friends
hanging on the wall like a skin tag, while she’s
grinding on some get swag jock guy who went stag
she couldn’t think of much to say
and i couldn’t think of much to ask
hugged her at the door and said have a nice day
and she still said, brandon we’re moving too fast
you can’t dance with me…
i’m burping up the taste of her tongue
giving crack out at maternity wards
and i’m not gonna stop cause theirs work to be done
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