Lyrics Native Son Prequel - Gramatik, Leo Napier

Native Son Prequel - Gramatik, Leo Napier
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Native Son Prequel , by -Gramatik
Song from the album: Epigram: Deluxe Edition
In the genre:Лаундж
Release date:13.12.2016
Song language:English
Record label:Lowtemp

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Native Son Prequel
See I don’t ever talk about the weather
I wear a long coat made of chickadee feathers
Well I squawk loud
When I’m pushing through a rush hour crowd
On the way to your house
And it’s a low life, baby
Aristocrats sippin' fine wine
Ain’t my perception of a good time
It’s what I’m having
Where do I sign?
I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on
Since I was fourteen
Repped it hard like I was James Dean
Giving chickadees some wet jeans
When I rolled through I made it my scene
She was a tall lady
Six feet plus and making men crazy
I hollered at her from my blue Mercedes
Now she walk the streets for me daily
See I don’t ever talk about the weather
I wear a long coat made of chickadee feathers
Well I squawk loud
When I’m pushing through a rush hour crowd
On the way to your house
And it’s a low life, baby
Aristocrats sippin' fine wine
Ain’t my perception of a good time
It’s what I’m having
Where do I sign?
I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on
I know it ain’t right
Making money off her backside
But you know she ain’t no cheap ride
So Rockafellas call me late night (ah yeah)
She was made for it
So she might as well get laid for it
And I might as well get paid for it
'Cause in the end I’m gonna pay for it
See I don’t ever talk about the weather
I wear a long coat made of chickadee feathers
Well I squawk loud
When I’m pushing through a rush hour crowd
On the way to your house
And it’s a low life, baby
Aristocrats sippin' fine wine
Ain’t my perception of a good time
It’s what I’m having
Where do I sign?
I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on
Where do I sign?
I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on
Where do I sign?
I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on
Straight to hell laughing, come on
See I don’t ever talk about the weather
I wear a long coat made of chickadee feathers
Well I squawk loud
When I’m pushing through a rush hour crowd
On the way to your house
And it’s a low life, baby
Aristocrats sippin' fine wine
Ain’t my perception of a good time
It’s what I’m having
Where do I sign?
I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on

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