Buck 65 Sunday Driver текст песни, слова песни Sunday Driver Buck 65
Buck 65 - Sunday Driver
With no strings attached to a magic marionette
See there's so little time left and yet there's so much space
Thinking why don't you give me a call later on so we can touch base
I swim across the seven seas and follow the sounds of handclaps
And just try to keep my balls out of the sand traps
Because before I go on live all my enemies try to contrive
Plots to make my whole entire routine take a swan dive
But this ain't commercialized hip-hop or indie pop
Nah, this ain't the mashed potato, uh-uh this ain't the windy hop
The dance that goes with this is called the keep perfectly still
Before your brain becomes burnt out like cheap circuitry will
Lately I've been spending almost all my nights with my hands full
Between writing my rhymes and my fights with the man-wolf
I'm building a better mousetrap and plus a wider fence
Because I trust my instincts and follow my spider sense
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