| We all wanna ride and we all wanna shine
|
| In the whip with the suicide doors
|
| Maybe they call 'em that cause once you got it all
|
| What do you want for?
|
| When the light gets too hot and there’s nowhere to hide
|
| They miss you while you’re here and love you after you die
|
| Fine by appearance but broken inside
|
| Hard to stay grounded after you learn how to fly, oh my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my
|
| I was in the Chevy Cavalier when the mountaintop killed Kurt
|
| Shotgun bedding and a stain on his shirt
|
| Hard to believe everything that we read
|
| Another day another (ugh), gone too soon
|
| This shit is not new news, how many times now?
|
| Who’s next to Chester, Lil Peep and Amy Winehouse?
|
| Walking up the stairway to heaven, watch 'em file out
|
| On top of the mountain, got nowhere that we can climb now
|
| Mac Miller probably still be alive if he never blew
|
| Ambition more expensive than the coupe
|
| Once you achieve it, they don’t tell you what to do
|
| Like, dude you got too much green to be blue
|
| Don’t come lookin' for some sympathy
|
| Enshrine all your missteps in infamy
|
| The car crash get publicity
|
| The sneaking pictures of you when you with your fam
|
| But they’d kill you if you did that to them
|
| You get the cash, cash cash, all of this cash
|
| Flash, flash flash, gone in a flash
|
| American dreaming that we can believe in
|
| But it’s a nightmare how we treat the ones who achieve it
|
| But still we-
|
| We all wanna ride and we all wanna shine
|
| In the whip with the suicide doors
|
| Maybe they call 'em that cause once you got it all
|
| What do you want for?
|
| When the light gets too hot and there’s nowhere to hide
|
| They miss you while you’re here and love you after you die
|
| Fine by appearance but broken inside
|
| Hard to stay grounded after you learn how to fly, oh my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my
|
| We all watch the throne, throw stones
|
| And we all want it for our own
|
| But heavy is the crown on the dome
|
| Nowhere to hide, need a hat in disguise
|
| To walk to buy a coffee and a basket of fries
|
| No one’ll empathize if you happen to cry
|
| In that quarter-mil car, 'bro must be real hard'
|
| No comedy like Apatow, diss you while alive
|
| When you die, we come back around
|
| RIP for half an hour, 'ooh yeah we were always down'
|
| We pray to be Ye, but I heard Ye say he’d have his grave emblazoned «are you happy now?»
|
| We had the same dream back in the day
|
| We’re at the zoo laughing at you as we tap on the cage
|
| You ask, «Is this it?» |
| like the Strokes
|
| Search L.A. for hope
|
| End up prescriptions, addicted to coke
|
| Make decision, put incision in your wrist and then go
|
| Cause it didn’t shine behind all that did glisten and glow
|
| Eating all these M&M's, might’ve turned into a pill addiction
|
| Right around the encore, not enough, we want more
|
| As good as your sophomore, go higher than pot stores
|
| Gas you up then pull you down and wonder what you popped for
|
| We all wanna ride, till the car won’t stop
|
| We’re all gonna die
|
| They tell you you should go high as God in the sky
|
| Let you fall from grace and then we flock to your side
|
| But nonetheless I know we-
|
| We all wanna ride and we all wanna shine
|
| In the whip with the suicide doors
|
| Maybe they call 'em that cause once you got it all
|
| What do you want for?
|
| When the light gets too hot and there’s nowhere to hide
|
| They miss you while you’re here and love you after you die
|
| Fine by appearance but broken inside
|
| Hard to stay grounded after you learn how to fly, oh my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my
|
| If you’ve ever seen the comments section
|
| Then you know why fame comes with depression
|
| «I hope you die, slut, thot, fat, ugly, photoshopped»
|
| Every dick’s opinion from inner Finland to Omaha
|
| Hitting all your ugly angles, paparazzi intervening
|
| Reporters might make you cop a eating disorder
|
| Bro if they were scrutinizing me, I’d end up with a nose job, a chin job,
|
| some botox, a dick job, a coke problem
|
| Wanted to be famous so that they’d know what my name is
|
| But that tightrope walk is dangerous, demon bring me to an angel |
| If Kim K snaps and unloads a strap on every Mandy and Randy insulting her family
|
| I got her back over trolls and jerks
|
| Look, I probably wouldn’t last 20 minutes as her
|
| If I couldn’t eat dinner in peace
|
| And people expecting me to be a, 10 instead of a 3
|
| And viewed me competitively to celebrities
|
| I would snap like, chat
|
| I would blast right, back
|
| I would crack, probably end up the same place as Mac
|
| Probably wanna end me, big mansion empty
|
| We all want the suicide doors, till the suicide’s knocking on yours
|
| We all want the suicide doors, till the suicide’s knocking on
|
| We all wanna ride and we all wanna shine
|
| In the whip with the suicide doors
|
| Maybe they call 'em that cause once you got it all
|
| What do you want for?
|
| When the light gets too hot and there’s nowhere to hide
|
| They miss you while you’re here and love you after you die
|
| Fine by appearance but broken inside
|
| Hard to stay grounded after you learn how to fly, oh my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my oh my, oh my my
|
| Oh my
|
| I’ve said before, the internet is a, is a big high school, and the little kids
|
| on there are bullying artists. |
| And they, and they be surprised when artists are
|
| talking about pain, and, and you know, «this is too much,» and «this is crazy.
|
| «Y'all are the bullies, but then you post four picture collages on Twitter
|
| about mental health, but then turn around and contribute to the downside of an
|
| artists' mental health. |
| Y’all are buggin, you know what I’m saying?
|
| Y’all are literally poison. |
| And the more famous you get, the more uglier the
|
| world gets. |
| The more famous you get, the more uglier the world gets.
|
| The more famous you get, the more uglier the world gets |