Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mause: An American Tale, artist - Mickey Factz. Album song Y-3, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 22.10.2015
Record label: W.A.R. Media
Song language: English
Mause: An American Tale |
| MauSe. |
| New decade, hoping the 90s pop |
| Listening to Aerosmith, Meat Loaf, 90s rock |
| Q-Tip and drivers hot, going to the vinyl shop |
| Parties at the Mud Club, buckets full of private stock |
| Passport got paint marks stamped in 8 parts, auctioneers raising their hands |
| asking what frames cost |
| Just left Spain with dames the plane take off, had her more naked for days now |
| that’s great art, simple |
| Wiped off my smock with some tissue, phone call issues trying to dial out to |
| Bristol |
| Blek le rat waiting for MauSe it’s official, looking out the jet window waiting |
| for the intro |
| Das EFX playing in my discman, stepped off the cessna looking like a rich man |
| 5 years ago I was sleeping on the bench man, sort of like a 6th man |
| Now I’m in London with a big plan |
| Andy just passed I’m trying to do collabs |
| So the MauSe and the rat working together is rad |
| Been scratching on my skin so my body had a rash |
| I ignored it, even though I knew shit was bad |
| Sat down with Blek, he was already great |
| Told a story with the paint, it was sort of like fate |
| Had the Jordans kind of late because I bought em at a rate that was cheap |
| But my man said he holding me some 8s, and I just got the 7s, and the 9−1 |
| Used the stencil like a gun, never ended out run |
| Before I got done, Blek told me about a kid |
| Who was just coming up, he was something like a wiz |
| He was running around London showing people what he did |
| Nobody knew his name he was hiding from the fame |
| Blek said he needed guidance so I’m trying to giving him game |
| Question MauSe inspired, it was fire to the flame |
| Turned to a mentor, that’s what a friends for |
| Gave him my beeper number, knowing that it meant more |
| Got to America, started having sex more |
| Supersonic jersey, same one Shawn Kemp wore |
| Valentines day, 9−2, cuticle chewing, Keith was was hospitalized according to |
| Julie Gruen |
| I knew he had AIDS, that shit could ruin a human |
| I was crying uncontrollably at the funeral viewing |
| Spots on my body popping up at of nowhere |
| Still ducking my doctor I’m not trying to go there |
| Treating everyday like I don’t care, no fear |
| Finally showed up to the doctors office with no hair, weaken |
| Acrylic on my hand was distinguished |
| Had trouble breathing with a scalp full of lesions |
| Cup full of alcohol, house full of demons |
| Nose full of cocaine, couch full of divas |
| Stepping on canvases, covered up the marks on my body with my bandages, |
| indulging in cannabis |
| Medics knew me by my first name in the ambulance |
| Thinking about suicide, far away from happiness |
| Bald headed, no beard counting euros |
| Temporarily artist still churning out murals |
| Painting questions marks in colors that looked floral |
| Questioning societies morals, pill popping, still rocking this would work for |
| Phil Collins |
| Skills sharpened, had my face on the milk carton |
| Beeper went off, it was from that kid Robin |
| I’ma leave my legacy around him |
| MauSe… |