| Yo, yo!
|
| Popeye kickin' the can but never eats the spinach
|
| Seems I never reach the goal but always meet the finish
|
| Though, I know my heart, goes
|
| I feel my heart, go
|
| I know my heart, goes
|
| Yes, still my heart, goes, goes
|
| So, I had to bite the bullet, the casing, the trigger
|
| My nigga said, «Sun never felt so, blah; |
| sleep never felt so, yawn»
|
| Cleon could’ve been that dude, no one remembers though
|
| Posse moved on?
|
| Possibly here (yeah), possibly long gone
|
| Finna slow cook from Midwestern warm storms
|
| The story goes
|
| See hot pot touch hot pot, I’ll never know
|
| Third, four, fifth degree, makes no diff- to he (Ow!)
|
| I’ll never say «peace out,» I just peace out
|
| They at me at me
|
| Wiley Coyote 'cause all my great regrets, always define my image
|
| Seems I never reach the goal but always meet the finish
|
| Popeye kickin' the can but never eats the spinach
|
| Though, I know my heart, goes
|
| Yet still my heart, goes
|
| So, I guess I’m still alive
|
| Guess being fresh to death can’t help the fire of death inside
|
| Maybe it’s all a lie
|
| Or maybe I survived on being I and got some karma on my side, Not sure why,
|
| they say I’m a good guy
|
| I guess I’ll take they word, it’s more a burden to deny
|
| At times I’m going crazy trying to renovate my mind like bro from Pi
|
| Either cool is just a guise, or the same, maybe the fool is the disguise
|
| I open up my eyes, and spin in three-six-oh degrees
|
| And see «Spy Versus Spy» within me, plottin' how to end it
|
| Wiley Coyote great regrets always define my image
|
| Seems I never reach the goal but always meet the finish
|
| Popeye kickin' the can but never eats the spinach
|
| Though, I know my heart, goes
|
| Yet still my heart, goes
|
| I know my heart, goes
|
| I feel my heart, go, go, go
|
| I know my heart, goes
|
| I know my heart, goes
|
| I know my heart, goes
|
| I know my heart, goes
|
| …you is great, I wish I could be you more often! |