| Yo, nothing makes sense
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| Everything’s a tangled mess up inside my head
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| Drug dependent, I’m living on the edge
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| Hudsucker building, standing on the ledge
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| Ready to plummet to my death
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| My girl asking herself «Was it something that I said?»
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| He never did take criticism well
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| Official card-carrying citizen of Hell
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| I built a wall of sound
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| My citadel repel
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| And impale
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| Nobody ever lived to tell the tale
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| Still I’m feeling like my life’s a major fail
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| Standing on the platform
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| Waiting for British Rail
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| Throw myself on the tracks
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| Like I do with these raps
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| Where the drugs at?
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| A brother gotta relax
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| It’s like he’s become totally detached
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| Socially inept
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| Yet they’re throwing me the snatch
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| Big fish, he’s supposed to be a catch
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| Take notice how he chats
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| Is it poetry? |
| Perhaps
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| But
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| They’re never showing the acknowledgement for that
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| 'Till your image get polished
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| Keep the policy intact
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| Talking industry politics with cats
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| Properly smashed
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| He’ll probably hit the bottle 'til he’s lashed
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| Drink driving through life like Brands Hatch
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| No goals all season
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| Still he’s man of the match
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| Crash dummy splattered on the dash
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| The hooded executioner brandishing the axe
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| Dust to dust, ashes to ash
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| Disappear like a dealer selling cabbage on your patch
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| The parasitic want to cash in on the act
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| Call the paramedics quick
|
| They can try and bring him back
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| Before it all fades to black
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| Lifeless, laid on his back
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| Can I get an encore, por favor?
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| Hudsucker building
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| 44th floor
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| I’m on the 44th floor
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| Fucked up how I’m feeling
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| 44th floor
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| Can I get an encore, por favor?
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| Hudsucker building
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| 44th floor
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| I’m on the 44th floor
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| Can’t crack the glass ceiling
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| 44th floor
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| Falling from the skies
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| His whole life flashed before his eyes
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| The many faces of who he loved and despised
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| Those close enough to see through my disguise
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| Sentimentality
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| My demise catalysed
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| No cat’s eyes
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| Only oncoming headlights
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| Back-page obituary
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| Front-page headline
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| Got 'em scratching their heads like head lice
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| Skull about to burst, like my head’s in a vice
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| No suicide note
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| So they’re left to surmise
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| Just a glass half-empty
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| Except for some ice
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| And the ashtray
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| Full of roaches left behind
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| Now they’re queuing up behind
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| Like Lemmings in a line
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| From here all the way to Palestine
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| Seventy-two virgins waiting in paradise
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| When I reach the other side
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| Better to die
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| Than have all my beliefs undermined
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| I defy on a front line seeking a divine
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| Seek and you shall find.
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| (Flatline!) |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 44th Floor, artist - Jehst. Album song Billy Green is Dead, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп