| Think it was a Sunday, sometime in January,
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| I could be wrong and I guess it isn’t necessary,
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| But I remember that the ground was made of snow,
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| And if you went outside you better take your coat.
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| I must have been 19 years old I had a cashier job at a convenience store,
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| Workin' the counter makin' minimum dough,
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| Sellin' discount smokes to the neighborhood folk.
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| I didn’t pay much thought to his ski mask,
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| Its Minnesota man your face’ll freeze fast,
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| But I bet that I looked sorta dumb when I first caught sight of his bright
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| orange gun.
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| There I am adrenalin high and trying to decide how I feel about his right hand,
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| Is that a-god damn-wait a minute, it is a flare gun,
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| And guess where he’s aimin' it?
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| You probably ain’t here to win the lottery,
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| So you obviously gotta be robbin' me.
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| He nodded his head so I opened up the till,
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| Grabbed the paper bag for the money 'cause I know the drill.
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| I handed him the cash and the food stamps,
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| And he just stood there lookin' all confused and I’m thinkin',
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| Yo why the fuck ain’t he movin'?
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| Come on crazy white boy don’t do somethin' stupid.
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| That bag is worth maybe two thirty,
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| Not enough for you to pull the trigger back and burn me,
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| By now you should be down the street,
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| Ain’t you ever see the way they do this shit on TV?
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| Yeah it was fun but it’s done,
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| Now get out.
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| (Um, do you want me to get on the ground and start countin'?)
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| Before the ski mast even started noddin' I was already on that,
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| (One one thousand, Two one thousand)
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| The front door beeped I heard him leave so I called my boss and the Richfield
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| police,
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| Gotta close the shop and lock the doors because some trailer trash just robbed
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| the store.
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| (Eh, I don’t know, maybe 5'10? Skinny, flannel shirt, ski mask, two hundred
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| thirty, maybe two fifty? |
| yeah a flare gun yeah like a fuckin' flare gun.
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| a ball of fire comes out. |
| What would you do if i pointed a flare gun at you?)
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| Everybody acted so suspicious,
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| I guess the flare gun story seemed fictitious,
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| Are you accusing me of petty embezzlement?
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| Don’t you see my left over adrenalin?
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| Bosses and cops can’t be my friend.
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| Never felt loyalty to either again.
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| And to keep it real,
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| The irony didn’t set,
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| Until a year later when I got fired for stealin' cigarettes.
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| (Gotta light?) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 66th Street , by - ATMOSPHERE. Song from the album Sad Clown Bad Year, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп