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satrap - novemeber 5th lyrics
crowded like the gym on the first week of january
clouded like my mind on hte first night at the sanctuary
i’m bouta burst like peter griffins final capillary
going out like stinson imma spit it till it’s legendary
coming out the blue first snow of november
baking in the heat first thing i remember
flames like my brother bouta go and blow his temper
yeah i’m burning like the last on the embers (woah)
i been to h_ll and back
boy the trip ain’t pretty
i had to face the facts
i can’t take your pity
i had to leave my city
and move out to the coast
not the one with beaches
but the one with snow
they said they sorry for me
they said i’m in your thoughts
yeah appreciate the culture but it ain’t your fault
it’s just a sh_tty hand, and i gotta make it work
i miss my girls out in the desert who knew how to twerk
it’s a different lifestyle that i used to live
i used to chill out with my bros in a different crib
i used to stay late nights and just drive around
this ain’t the culture over here yeah it’s a different town
yeah, woah, this life out here for european
i think it’s something in the air that i must be breathing
and even when i’m dreaming, and even when i’m sleeping
don’t know where home is any more i fight my inner demons
home godd_mn that’s a relative term
home is where my family at half of em down in the earth
sometimes i think i’ve been cursed, i don’t understand how this works
everything in my life just keeps on going bezerk
if there’s a god and he really f_cking testing me
then please explain, my godd_mn destiny
what kind of god plucks a fruit before its ripe
what kind of god leaves two kids alone at night
ain’t no truth to any lie ain’t no fruit to every vine
people asking how i’m doing and i always say i’m fine
ain’t no point to tell the truth, ain’t no point to pull the tooth
only place that i’m myself is when i’m in the f_cking booth
miss the homies in the wild wild west
miss the penwood gang yeah finessing the arrests
miss the cunning fellow crib where i used to make a mess
miss living a home where i ain’t never no guest
crowded like the gym on the first week of january
clouded like my mind on hte first night at the sanctuary
i’m bouta burst like peter griffins final capillary
going out like stinson imma spit it till it’s legendary
coming out the blue first snow of november
baking in the heat first thing i remember
flames like my brother bouta go and blow his temper
yeah i’m burning like the last on the embers (woah)
[guitar solo]
three story, red brick victorian
true story, how am i gonna make it in
twenty_two out of a grand, ain’t no upper hand
wish i really didn’t a d_mn
two story, overlooking all the green
true story, mama met my every need
first child gets harder as you get older
and now i’m f_cking up the birth order
stage four and you know i’m coming in hot
grind it to the ground imma take you to the bedrock
take em to the red rock, spit it from the hip_hop
papa always told me i been playing too much black_ops
used to go to school with just a tee and just dome dungarees
now my homies talking bout they latest f_cking luxuries
homies from the hood ending up in all the ivy leagues
rich motherf_ckers couldn’t make it past the nunnery
turned a 2 to a 4, 4 to a 8
i turned my life around and i ain’t gonna wait for fate
burn my memory and move the f_ck up out the way
every six months i been staring at the date
ink stains cause i’m writing like a maniac
matches in my pockets and you know that imma pay you back
i been to h_ll and back, i had to face the facts
my pain and yours is equal i ain’t gonna mess with that
remember to remember, the 5th of novemeber
that’s the day i knew that i ain’t never gon surrender
that’s the day i knew that i ain’t never gon forget her
that’s the day i knew that sh_t gon live with me forever
pick apart my brain up in an institute and pay em
pick apart my mind before i lose it on the gram
pick up all the parts of life and throw em all up in the light
i hide my darkest thoughts and i ain’t never gon display em
picking at my scabs never let em do the healing
scars finna stay till my last day breathing
pick apart my fickle heart and take me to the simple start cause i ain’t tryna do the math and figure out the meaning
desert to snow, look at the flow
if it doesn’t glitter its gold out in the cold
ain’t getting easy for me hoping they see
one things for sure i ain’t ever gon drop to my knees
three story, red brick victorian
true story, how am i gonna make it in
twenty_two out of a grand, ain’t no upper hand
wish i really didn’t a d_mn
two story, overlooking all the green
true story, mama met my every need
first child gets harder as you get older
and now i’m f_cking up the birth order
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