Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Best Spot in the House, artist - Injury Reserve. Album song Injury Reserve, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.05.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Loma Vista
Song language: English
Best Spot in the House |
This is the best, the best spot in the house? |
Absolutely |
Check it |
Check it, yo, check it |
I’ve had niggas that come up to me, say that they looked up to me, yeah |
And that they been fuckin' with me since shit was ugly, yeah |
And that these songs, man, they saved they life |
Now, how you put that kind of power in these hands of mine? |
And how a nigga 'posed respond to some shit like that? |
Am I supposed to «Oh, thanks,» pat they back? |
I ain’t tryna take away from the experience they had |
But, honestly, I’m not prepared for some shit like that |
And when they credit myself, they discredit themselves |
And the strength that they had, yeah, to better themselves |
And they talk about the strength that I have in my songs |
But they don’t know, behind them stories, there’s some shit that’s just wrong |
And I hear 'em say that it was beautiful |
But to me, man, that shit was inexcusable, uh |
To talk about a death and not go to the funeral |
Tellin' myself, «You gotta swallow all that guilt that chewed at you» |
Shit was juvenile, like how was I too cowardly to go to your fuckin' funeral |
But still feel like rappin' about your death was fuckin' suitable? |
Was I true to you, or usin' you? |
Or the unfortunate events to make my songs more moveable |
My grief provable? |
It’s true though, I do wish I could call like shit was usual |
Tell you shit’s poppin', uh, tell you life’s beautiful, uh |
But I didn’t check on you when you were still here, yeah |
And that shit been eatin' at me for this past year, yeah |
This remind me of Will dancin' on that couch |
2014 Flagstaff, we’re back now |
Halloween a year later and we’re drivin' home |
I’ll throw up eight times before we make it out |
Still reminds me of Will dancin' on that couch |
Saw him last week, he swears that we made it now |
People watchin' now, better not let them down |
I’ll throw up eight times before we make it now |
(Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
Shout out to my brother Chuck, healthiest dude I know |
One day, he was hoopin' and just dropped to the floor |
In disbelief, man, I could never fathom that |
His sister Rosie hit me like, «It might’ve been a heart attack» |
Couldn’t do shit about it, stuck in Arizona |
Plus they brought him back, but I heard he’s in a coma |
Drop to my knees and I start to pray |
Said, «If he wakes up, I swear that I’ll call and text him every day» |
Felt like a lifetime after a couple days went past |
And I still ain’t heard from your ass, man, wake the fuck up |
Yo, luckily he did, my promise didn’t last that long |
You would text me, it would take like a week to respond |
And I ain’t got shit goin' on |
Man, that’s so fucked up |
Two years later, seen your silhouette in that crowd |
Last show, our first headlinin' tour, it’s sold out |
700 people, yeah, that shit was so wild |
Seen that ugly-ass grin, knew I made you proud, yeah |
This remind me of Will dancin' on that couch |