Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Big Ships, artist - E-dubble. Date of issue: 09.05.2013
Song language: English
Big Ships |
| Big ships still sink, but my boat’s afloat |
| Hands up high for the ones who knew |
| I’ll get by for the ones I know |
| With a drink up high for the ones I know |
| And I’m standing tall |
| The lights shine bright as stars, — |
| — and I’m feeling like I might be one |
| So tonight it’s on |
| The drunk mind pens the poem, — |
| — and the poem feels just like home |
| Live blogging from the spot with some thoughts of granger. |
| Puffing something strong enough to cure most cancer |
| Shouts to world peace, and the shit we yearn for |
| Sometimes I worry that we only hurry to earn more |
| Sometimes I worry that we only hurry to hustle |
| Forgetting why we love, and all this beautiful struggle |
| Shouts to Talib and the poets with backpacks |
| Graduate to Ray Bans, chains, and snap-backs |
| Long as we backtrack, people can process |
| Smoking that good life. |
| Look at that progress |
| Two Tone Rebel, I can never say enough |
| We fight the status quo when the status quo sucks |
| So I’m balling in my own right. |
| Fighting that good fight |
| Think I got a chance now. |
| Think I got my shit right |
| Throwing knives in the air and hitting suckers |
| I be finding angles on these chickens like Chuck is |
| I got a story to tell. |
| My anxiety’s high |
| So pass that Dutch 'till the feeling subsides |
| Need illiteral high. |
| Need audible dope |
| Those critical times I make audible smoke |
| Let the audience go. |
| Let the lights get turned off |
| Like I’m too grown for this shit like Murtaugh |
| Lethal Weapon hecklers be fretting and oh dog |
| Like I ain’t even sure what side to butter the toast on |
| Robots can’t drink. |
| Robots can’t smoke |
| And I ain’t fixing anything that ain’t been broke |
| Two tokes is healthy. |
| In my lungs is hope |
| One syllable lives. |
| One syllable croaks |
| And I probably killed it on my on my tartan-clad shit |
| Lighting up trees with the Green Eyed Bandit. |
| Spit a couple bars for a large advance |
| Harlem shake with these shakers 'till the cars is fast |
| And I’m gone |
| Do it big like Wallace |
| If you don’t know the name keep quiet |
| We going to do the mother-fucking knowledge |
| Keep that shit modest |
| Wonder where the bread’s like holler |
| Even when the bread’s on notta |
| Gotta pay those tolls |
| So I be riding clean at the most |
| Five man I’ll be giving the post |
| Never seen a gift horse looking back at his mouth |
| Gift of gab, so he might as well toast and let it marinate |
| I don’t assume too soon. |
| I let it marinate |
| It’s like an Olsen twin. |
| It’s like Mary Kate |
| It’s like an Olsen twin who likes Mary Jane |
| Even if we stumble, still bubble just like Perrier |