| I’ve been up all night
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| On the red-eye flight
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| The dawn’s early light
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| Got the skyline bright
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| I’m in the back of a car service
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| My driver’s kinda nervous
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| Cause I’m toking on a blunt that’s fat
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| He’s say «You know where you at?»
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| I say «I know where I am
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| And if you really want a tip than mista don’t get flam
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| I ain’t tryin to be rude
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| And I ain’t stressin you gramps
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| But this shit right here it be the breakfast of champs.»
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| I’ve been tokin on this since 13 years old
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| And when I look up at my wall I see platinum and gold
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| And ain’t nobody sneezin at the money I fold
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| And I ain’t here for your pleasin so put that shit on hold
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| Just keep your mouth shut
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| And get me to the hotel
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| And turn the radio up
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| While I finish this ell
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| (doorman greeting Mr. Ford)
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| I hop out my car
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| Step into the lobby
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| Everybody’s on the floor
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| It’s a motherfucking robbery
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| The shit’s in progress
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| I can feel the stress
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| I wondered silently to God how I get in this mess?
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| They told me to freeze
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| And get down on my knees
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| Between my jewels and my cash I’m holdin 35g's
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| They told me to run it
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| So I got bold and I fronted
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| And like Slick Rick said «I know I shouldn’t a done it.»
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| Cause now they standin over me, watching me bleed
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| Damn I gotta quit smoking all this weed
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| There’s a pain in my chest
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| But yo I must be blessed
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| Cause before I faded out I saw EMS
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| The paramedics
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| They greet me with some anasthetics
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| They killing my pain
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| They screamin my name
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| Trying to keep me in the conscience world
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| I’m thinking bout my mom my sister and my girl
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| I’m prayin to God don’t let this go too far
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| As they rushed me into the ST. |
| Luke’s O. R
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| They pulled the bullets out my chest and give 'em back in a jar
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| Now I’m wearin this scar
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| Cause I tried to play hard
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| (doctor talking to Mr. Ford)
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| Yo this can’t happen to me
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| I just can’t believe it
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| Trapped in a wheelchair
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| A Parapalegic
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| There ain’t no rehab
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| There ain’t no therapy
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| For the rest of my life
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| Someone’s gotta take care of me
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| And people stare at me with pity in they eyes
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| And every morning I rise
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| To a life of despise
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| And everynight I think I might never rock the mike again
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| Cause my brain’s fucked up on Percocet and Vicodine
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| Might as well be heroin pulsing through my veins
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| Gotta cure these pains
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| Or blow out my brains
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| To free me from these chains
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| I’m trapped in this physical hell
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| To walk again I just might sell my soul
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| And I’m only 20-something years old |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pain Killers , by - Everlast. Song from the album Whitey Ford Sings The Blues, in the genre Иностранный рок