Lyrics Robot's Can't Drink - E-dubble

Robot's Can't Drink

They wanna know the state of that union
what we’re all immune too
what the fuck we clapping for?
what the fuck the shrooms do?
where the fuck my drink go?
tryna get my head clear
tryna figure out the path we took to just get here
no cheers, no sounds
quiet while they contemplate
searching for the storyline tryna to finally consummate
…or was it consummate.
pronounce dominance
salute to the narrative somebody’s live blogging it up
so we in realtime status says «lovin' it»
til' they let that motherfucker go and cop a double clip
and what’s the reason for it?
and is it treason for a middle path temper to be agitated even more?
or do we stick to one side and never pole vault?
never shake and bake no lawry’s no salt
and no spice to it, I put the ice to it
turpentine don hard enough to cut right through it
we put our heart in, to pull the words out
with a glass in the hand pull the nerves out
you hear a pin drop, but your ears close
while the notes keep playing for your heroes
live through circuits
run that routine
find your purpose
tie your shoe strings
i take solace in my looseleaf
what’s your poison
can it soothe me
i stay drinking
i am on that chevy volt cold shit
no i’m never gassed up
boogaloo electric
never pull a fast one
i ain’t into gimmicks
but the people want an image
so I’m Mr. Transparent
while the ferris wheel’s spinning
rat race I am truant to it… hollerin' Bueller
we’re just at the tailgate… brought our own cooler
fuck that stress shit, who’s got next game?
connect 4 while we run that chess game
i’m only playing when i’m laughing with ansari
snapping at these fuckers tryna figure out antares
auto-tune slow pokes they are pretty charming
jambox jammed up… back to the Laundry
cuz' this is real life, no frills, real pain
cheap vodka and a couple tanks of propane
we need heat even if it’s only thursday
52 weeks, 53 happy birthdays
at the end of the day there are no real differences
tryna dodge the bitterness of that griffin kid
family guy’s peter pan they missing it
tryna fly high stay young blake griffin shit
-business end of the stick they on that chuck sheen
hate what they’ve become even with the luxury
2 and a half men, I am more like 3 in one
i don’t mean to brag but I feel I got the midas touch
golden, yes I’m feeling golden
tryna make those pained past days seem olden
throw a fucking fist up, we are never folding
origami mama’s get they labias swollen
i will put it on you, it will never wash off
this ink is indeliable throw away the wash cloth
throw away the soap box, i be on the main stage
flipping the looseleaf now we’re on the same page cuz' we put
still killing the average, still looking for change
still dodging the arrows, still paving the lane
still drinking the poison tryna to stay sane
thumbs up, blue skies, green grass all day
sunny side it… no more fuckin' hiding
no more second fiddle shit, let em' play biden
we don’t autopilot, never on cruise control
we are mashing pedals in tell them fellas move along
tell em' make a little room, tell em make a bigger room
tell em' its a starter pistol, let em' pull the trigger too
let em get their groove back tell em it’s what stella did
they ain’t even listening, they don’t know what stellar is
they don’t know the cellar shit, they don’t know the basement
they don’t know where the tascam or the tapes went
tell those fuckers everything, build a fucking covenant
show em' how you do it too, let em' know you love this shit