| Now, when you come to apply for a job
|
| Don’t tell 'em you’re homeless
|
| 'Cause I promise they won’t hire you
|
| And if they like your songs
|
| Just nod your head and play along
|
| Never tell 'em what inspires you
|
| I bet my fans know me better than my friends do
|
| Because my friends don’t pay that much attention
|
| The fans memorize every single sentence
|
| Which makes them far too smart to ever start a friendship
|
| I need to start writing pieces about other people’s problems
|
| 'Cause strangers are starting to get worried
|
| I’m in a hurry to try to slow the system down a bit
|
| And find happiness before I hit thirty
|
| OK, OK, I’ve said too much
|
| I wear my heart on my sleeve
|
| When all I need to do is write a hit
|
| Somebody should’ve showed me how to shut up and breathe
|
| 'Cause there’s a time and place to bite your lip
|
| It goes peace to phobia
|
| For the boots made for walking
|
| Now if only Best Buy could break me off with a Walkman
|
| Everything would be fine
|
| I could spend time smiling
|
| Instead of pulling a sad clown around this island
|
| I’ve got no suggestions
|
| Well, maybe one
|
| Leave my type alone when you decide to touch that microphone
|
| See, me and you
|
| We’re on different pages
|
| We’re in different stages
|
| We’ve got different flavors
|
| I’mma let you do your thing
|
| Just as long as your thing
|
| Ain’t got a single thing to do with me and what I’m trying to bring
|
| But if my name crosses your lips
|
| You better guard your tongue
|
| Pardon me, give me my respect, and keep it all in fun
|
| If I had extra time I’d walk around and shake everybody’s hand
|
| (Like, how you doin' my man?)
|
| But I’m not allowed
|
| I’m trying to beat the clock now
|
| So I’m out, right after I rock this crowd
|
| It goes: ola ola ola (yeah)
|
| Ola ola ola
|
| It goes: one two three four five
|
| Six seven eight nine ten
|
| And all I ever wanted out of live was rhymin'
|
| Either from me or an innocent bystander
|
| I wasn’t that picky, just give it to me quickly
|
| Whatever it takes, to cook these cakes
|
| You wanna hear your voice but don’t know nothing 'bout the breaks
|
| And it’s obvious you haven’t found your place
|
| Got me askin', 'Who is he?"
|
| «How did he end up in my city?»
|
| I’m the crocodile that the trucker tried to wrestle
|
| I’m the main ingredient from yesterday’s special
|
| Close the hole and push that level
|
| I’ll chop the head off the devil and I’ll throw it at you
|
| And I’ll be damned if I ever climb another tree
|
| From here on, the squirrels and birds can come to me
|
| From sun to sun and from sea to sea
|
| (Girl, they call me Slug, do you wanna make love?)
|
| Now all the leaders in the place, throw your hands in the air
|
| All the feeders in the house, throw your hands in the air
|
| All the thinkers here tonight, put your hands in the air
|
| Anybody we forgot, you can stand there and stare
|
| Yeah, you remember, tracksmart (?), off to a bad start
|
| The weight I used to carry got buried in the backyard
|
| Caught between a scotch and a cinnamon Pop-Tart
|
| The bell doesn’t work, foo, you better knock hard
|
| Line by line, I’m doing fine
|
| I design on my mind for my time
|
| Hail when my kind does leave behind
|
| They’ll find that I was the one that died trying
|
| I would never trade the way I am for the way I’m not
|
| My crew is kinda popular, we get to play a lot
|
| And my son thinks that I am the coolest thing in the world
|
| 'Cause he’s still too young to fall in love with girls
|
| It goes: ola ola ola
|
| Yeah, you’re listening to the cool sounds of Atmosphere
|
| Ola ola ola
|
| From Minneapolis, Minnesota
|
| Ola ola ola
|
| Givin' a shout-out to the whole world
|
| Ola ola ola
|
| And we’d like to tell all of y’all, it goes:
|
| Ola ola ola
|
| To y’all
|
| Ola ola ola
|
| To us
|
| Ola ola Ola
|
| Now band, shut up, let the bassman do his thing, shush
|
| It’s like that and
|
| It’s like that and
|
| It’s like this and
|
| It’s like this and
|
| It goes: ola ola Ola
|
| Ola ola ola
|
| It goes… |