Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Choking On The Wishbone, artist - ATMOSPHERE. Album song Headshots: Se7en, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.01.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rhymesayers Entertainment
Song language: English
Choking On The Wishbone |
This one goes out to all of those that want success |
Wait, not just the ones that want it |
This goes to those that feel they deserve it |
And this one goes to all of those that make the moves |
and those that have paid the dues |
To all of those that walk the fine line on the edge |
To all the heads about to break it loose |
And you don’t want to come close to feeling it |
Initial reaction like «Yo, I don’t give a shh…» |
After a minute within it, they start to think |
«Why the hell they didn’t get it, did they not hear what he speaks?» |
They don’t know me, it’s best that way |
Let 'em look for tomorrow in yesterday |
And let me strain my lungs for the love of popping amps |
Let me spike the ball because I don’t like to dance |
Let me paint a picture on the surface of your mind |
I got a job at the circus and I quit writing rhymes |
Now I travel from city to city, life of a gypsy |
Gravel, grass, concrete, folk law and mystery |
Yo, looking at my Gucci, it’s about that time |
for me to pawn this piece of junk and try to take some of these finds |
Fly angel fly, don’t ever look back |
You better scoop that dead rat off the track, go home and cook that |
Maybe you should trade that Mustang for a Jeep |
So when you get too drunk to drive, you’ll have a dry place to sleep |
Don’t forget what chocolate milk does to the hangover |
Come on, who you think cut the tires on your Land Rover? |
Twist the nobs and chew the fat off the shish kebab |
Ditch the lard that cut my hair and made me quit my job |
And if I pass before they get a chance to hear me |
Tell 'em «Kiss my ass"and teach 'em all about my theory |
Choking on a wishbone, position blown out the frame |
Pissed on the remains to mark the spot and spark the flame |
It never settles, the constant grinding of metal |
against complicated timing, developing my threshold |
Touching the gestalt with a little reverb and some echo |
to add extra flavor like pesto |
Yo, the cards are dealt and now I’m staring at my hand |
Looking for something to toss, tryna find a spot to stand |
The anger felt as I look across the land |
It doesn’t equal to the eagerness and hunger to expand |
Move past, the berry is set, the previous sets |
carry me through the meaninglessness |
Here I am with the word extracting nerves |
Running toward the stage (here we go) to watch the crash occur |
Put your head on the pillow and shut your eyes |
Take your mind out the ghetto and touch the sky |
Then come ease down that much feared trail of blood, sweat and love |
Instead of flame, crying tears in the rain |
The blunder game, and it drowned out the hunger pains |
Numbed the brain and played life like a numbers game |
Poppa needs a new pair of nuts, cause he lost touch |
with the last ones fastened to the bottom of his guts |
Yo, they don’t know me, it’s best that way |
Let 'em look for tomorrow in yesterday |
This child is your fate so let 'em play |
I bet I know your age and I can guess your weight |
Wait, wait, how can it be so simple and straight? |
And why the hell ain’t you tripping to make some ripples in the lake? |
I can’t figure it out, for God’s sake arguing a lost case |
as it irritates my prostate, and when I sit home alone |
I kick over the telephone and catch my zone inside the dial tone |