| I’ve been busy, get-get-get off my nuts
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| I’ve been busy, busy, doing stuff
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| Copper Gone, I had to take my time
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| To get my life together, put everything in line
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| Sage Francis, no need for me to tell 'em
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| I’m from the Epic Beard Men, I’m steady representing'
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| Strange Famous
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| And slow and steady wins the race, fuckface
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| This is a letter to the editor sent in an envelope
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| Sealed shut by some candle wax
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| Shipped by an olden only show pony, with a carry sack
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| The only thing that I overnight express is myself through song
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| But it takes too long to reach the intended listener
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| When it gets delivered wrong
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| Never knew the words to the school bus sing along so I stayed off
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| While I organized my chaos I was like «Biotch, bring it on»
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| Pick ‘em up, your stupid self-esteem is low
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| Put ‘em down if they’re just feeling incredible about themselves
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| For no good god damn reason though
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| Never saw the need to boast
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| They were standing on the shoulders of a giant, so defiant
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| But his feet are so, Jesus, Mary, Joe
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| Barely even know if it appears as if I hate your guts
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| It’s just, both sides of my bed are the wrong one, and I’m always waking up
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| Plus, I don’t care to defend sides of myself that I don’t like much
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| I am what I am that’s all that I am, bullshit don’t got that right touch
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| Let the better half I punch, and push, and scratch it’s way out
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| Get on all fours put a saddle on your back and let the pain mount
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| I’m off to the races, gentlemen place your bets
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| Running in circles, turning their heads, eventually you could break their necks
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| The bookie collects, don’t play the victim when it happens
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| Lower the stakes before you try to burn the witches at ‘em
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| It’s the business of a Madam when the brothel has a profit loss
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| The best of the best survive the cut and the rest get auctioned off
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| They serve the Molotov, so Mazel Tov
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| Forefathers of stability in this industry have ridiculously fallen off
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| Chalk it up to blackboard, fingernail, crescendos
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| That was my jam when I was ten, but I was deaf though
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| I didn’t understand that I wasn’t landing a deal at all, it was a death blow
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| Whistling Dixie through a hell hole then I went pro
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| Active-Retro even though I paid my dues
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| Losers hate playing a game that they can’t win so they always change the rules
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| And I keep up, putting coffee into my tea cup
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| Try to cut me down when I take a stand? |
| Good luck
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| ‘Cause I got legs like a tree trunk
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| They say anger is a gift, I’m very gifted
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| And if ignorance is bliss then I’m a Sado-Masochist
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| Mastered the passion for the sake of stripping it from all its pleasure
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| Got a treasure chest collapsing under pressure
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| Get-get-get off my nuts
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| I’ve been busy, busy, doing stuff, Copper Gone
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| I had to take a minute to get my shit together
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| Otherwise I was finished, Sage Francis
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| No need for me to tell 'em, I tried to keep from yellin'
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| But I’m steady representin' Strange Famous
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| And slow and steady wins the race, fuckace
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| I been treating a vacant lot as if it’s a destination spot
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| Picked a hell of a depression to set up my shop
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| Master of tragic-comic timing
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| Mellow drama you understood, a sensei to some
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| Hyperventilating praying for the end of days to come
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| By selling survival kits, New Testament bibles to Zionists
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| And training wheels to professional cyclists, it’s like this
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| Plucking petals from your frame, She-Loves-Me-Not and goes nowhere
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| I pump my tires while you pump my brakes, I thought it was no fair
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| Spent several sessions giving away precious possessions
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| During an endless recession, turned repentance to oppression
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| Pressure into a permanent first impression
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| I’m the last of my kind so I side-step your health inspection
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| There’s a difference between gambling addiction and making love to Lady Luck
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| Erectile Dysfunction and being afraid to fuck
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| The pressure’s always building, I simply can’t wait to erupt
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| Both sides of my bed are the wrong one and I’m always waking up
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| (Always waking up, always waking up)
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| They say anger is a gift, I’m very gifted
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| And if ignorance is bliss then I’m a Sado-Masochist
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| Mastered the passion for the sake of stripping it from all its pleasure
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| Got a treasure chest collapsing under pressure |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pressure Cooker , by - Sage Francis. Song from the album Copper Gone, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп