Teledysk

Kredyty

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Astronautalis
Astronautalis
Lead Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Astronautalis
Astronautalis
Songwriter
Charles A. Bothwell
Charles A. Bothwell
Composer

Tekst Utworu

Even after six months NoLa still a wreck The ninth ward still had water to your chest Under I-10 (10) they piled dead cars Ever seen an ambulance with high water marks? They don't think so 'more - all we do is freeze Brace for that old taste a chaser strong Piss with blood on lipskin blood Would ya taste that whisky kids, goin' sweaty and free Fuck a club Mo' fucker take that shit to the streets - G We were born runnin' away from god, away from god We were born runnin' away - away We were born runnin' away from god, away from god We were born runnin' away 10 euros, that's cheap for sure Set it out and broke a word With these people liking nothing They'd rather drink what they had But they buy your merch heh Čadca isn't pretty but your crimes get worse Pink liquor dark brown many seek with herbs Bob Gill, get busy, they don't need the words And anything is a club where the speakers work - ey! Turn it up 'til it shakes the rafters No kings no gods no masters Beat bill by the ever collapsing Little kids are tagging, all cops are bashing in Any bypass and then they OG jack If they don't need no magic just to make this happen Make out make do make the best of what you got turn the volume up 'Til it shakes the rafters 'Til it shakes the rafters 'Til it shakes the rafters 'Til it shakes the rafters We make our own disasters We were born runnin' away from god, away from god We were born runnin' away - away We were born runnin' away from god, away from god We were born runnin' away Ey Ey Ey Ey Ey We ain't no gangsters We ain't no dull We all just flesh and blood and we don't need you to mess it up We independent son we dig our own graves For old lanes that the old play just for fun You could test his cum We were waitin' by that front gate with a beam up and a cup But I'm dumb founded of my home town Cops come, they all just run Their lord wants us out we pack our bags and shut that whole thing up So I's like "aight what you do when police come through to shake you down?" Laughed out loud and said "we lock them mother fuckers out"
Writer(s): Charles Andrew Bothwell Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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