Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Robot's Can't Drink, artist - E-dubble. Date of issue: 09.07.2015
Song language: English
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 |