Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song In Her Music Box, artist - ATMOSPHERE. Album song When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.04.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rhymesayers Entertainment
Song language: English
In Her Music Box |
She had a bad dream in the backseat |
The same one as yesterday |
The same one as last week |
Surrounded by her favorite favorites |
Elmo, Barbie, her purple baby blanket |
And that little matchbox that looks like just like dad’s car |
It’s fast on the leather, pretends its Nascar |
It jumps over Elmo cause it can fly that far |
With Daddy in the front seat frontin like a rap star |
Hey girl oh girl Daddy’s the greatest |
He knows the words to everything on the radio playlist |
He fakes the accent, even makes all the faces |
And when he raises his voice |
It makes her feel like he’s famous |
Yea Poppa got his lean on |
A mean one |
Weavin down Lake street-tryin to get his scene on |
Stoppin the whip to say somethin out the window |
Bobbin his head to the beat on the radio |
Good daddy won’t smoke no weed |
Until the Bass cradles her back to sleep |
Then he can steak his Mack while she takes a nap |
To the sweet pretty sounds of the gansta rap |
The high hat to angels voices |
They keep her distracted from the stranger’s voices |
Escape is a paradox, because a childhood is locked in that music box |
Daddies drive around, Mommies work night shift |
Sweet dreams, sleep little precious |
Lay down in that music box |
Escape in the sound of that music box |
Daddies drive around, Mommies work night shift |
Sweet dreams, sleep little precious |
Lay down in that music box |
Escape in the sound of that music box |
Yea daddy knows people, he’s important |
The guy with the suit and tie they see at the court |
And it seems like he ain’t tryin to talk to police |
But at the car wash they treat him like the star that she sees |
They like poppa’s big wheels |
And the lollipop she gets makes her feel like a big deal |
Not allowed to have it yet, gotta sit still |
Like the toy that she knows is gonna come with the kids meal |
She loves drive through food |
Health conscious dad, he buys her the juice |
A little sip of soda, builds the pride |
Go ahead baby girl, don’t spill those fries |
Nuh uh poppa can’t roll a messy office |
Compulsive in the way she lay them napkins all across the seat |
Never puts her feet up on the upholstery |
Just kicks em side to side to the beat on the radio |
She sings along like dad does |
She knows all the words, but she leave out the bad ones |
Except bitch-she always sings the word bitch |
Cause it makes her daddy laugh, it’s her magic trick |
And when daddy picks mommy up, they fight |
They fight about money, they fight about life |
So she concentrates so so hard on the music |
And loses herself inside of the bass and the movement |
Daddies drive around, Mommies work night shift |
Sweet dreams, sleep little precious |
Lay down in that music box |
Escape in the sound of that music box |
Daddies drive around, Mommies work night shift |
Sweet dreams, sleep little precious |
Lay down in that music box |
Escape in the sound of that music box |
Turn that Buick off |