OFWGKTA - Sam (Is Dead) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• OFWGKTA
• Sam (Is Dead)

[Verse 1: Domo]
This life is a game, if you wanna play, counting all your own mistakes
Living it with no delay, so fast I'm getting growing pains
Father didn't show me my instincts to take the open lane
I go insane, all the problems come with my growing age
Blowing haze, tryna clear the doubt that's sitting on my brain
I don't complain but the kid inside me's feeling so restrained
Gotta stay golden, let desire rekindle the flame
Searching for the Fountain of Youth, when I'm free in my brain

[Bridge]
Bring in the horns, you hear that fucking brass?
That's little boy nigga with the trumpets
Marching with the bandwagon
Looking for his heart, no sleeve but his hand carry muskets
Working in the meadows, Oblivion
Mothafuck Geppetto, he's a leader, not a puppet
Some professors nuttier than Klump's dick
So think before you blink and "Aye-Aye" make assumptions

[Hook]
Niggas! (Your left! Your left! Your left, right, left!)
Niggas is coming! (Your left! Your left! Your left, right, left!)

[Verse 2: Tyler]
They want a story - a story? I write the shit
That I find very amusing cause all the other fuckin' stories are boring
It's really awkward to know, that a bunch of kids do adore me
It's like I fathered these fuckers, so you won't find me on Maury
I'm still a kid in my heart, so I have a problem maturing
But it will come from experiences and shit I see touring
I'm like a bird when I'm soaring, really high
And I'm really horny, from watching this porn.. nope, but

[Bridge] + [Hook]

[Interlude]
5, 4, 3, 2, and where's Tyler?

[Verse 3: Tyler]
Bottom of the countdown, shit ain't been the same
Since I found out Hodgy Beats ghost wrote for Bow-Wow
Now I'm the loud, shot, body-styled, foul mouth fucker
That your teenage kid, likes to bow down
Riding around town in Seattle
With the same shotgun that Kurt used to click-clack, boom-pow
Still suicidal, but some assume that I'm cool now
Cause I got a fuckin' award in my own room now
Nope, but I can flip shit like a couch pillow
And have my death silent like a loose vow
The bandwagon turned into caboose, so
So, don't let that little nigga trumpet lose sound, just let him play