Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Interview, artist - Foundation. Date of issue: 20.06.2011
Song language: English
The Interview |
| Eyes open vision hasty, lights burn make my sights turn |
| A tall fat brunette bitch with a slight perm |
| Watches and reacts in amazement, I’m dazed kid |
| Looks like a nurse, makes me the hospital patient |
| My heart starts racin', my mouth salivatin' |
| As I vomit on the pavement try to speak, couldn’t say shit |
| Half wasted and left for dead |
| All I remember is those eyes and what the fuck they said |
| (Long ago) I did a stick on this kid |
| Caught one to the chest, didn’t think that he would live |
| Hard to kill, in a coma for six years |
| Change my life, have a family now, that’s in the past |
| Some nights I lay in bed with cold sweats |
| Waking up out of my sleep, scared to death from nightmares |
| What if he wakes up? |
| What if the Jakes come |
| Kick down the door? |
| What if he never wakes up? |
| This shit stays on my mind all the time when I drive, when the cops pull behind |
| For a traffic stop, I’m staring at the cop |
| Thinking he’s gon' grab some cuffs, but it never happens plus |
| This paranoia got me |
| Sometimes I see a face, I thinking it’s the same face but it ain’t, nah |
| I wake up every morning for work |
| Same store, same coffee, same talk with the clerk |
| I read the local paper over and over |
| I seen the headlines today, «Man Awakes From a Coma» |
| Officer So and So, look, I don’t know |
| Can’t remember who shot me, left me leaking on the flo' |
| Heard him creeping through the do', can’t picture the face |
| Left the scene without a fingerprint, evidence not a trace |
| Was fronting for the Jakes, never forget the cat |
| Dark City, J Murdock’s dead, dirty rat |
| Planned attack, six months physical therapy |
| Blueprinted the terrain, committed the memory |
| Got the address sent to me, plotted the schedule |
| Six years a long time scheming how I’m gon' get you |
| It’s been five months, still no knock at the door |
| No homicide detective, no questions at all |
| What’s going on? |
| He might’ve not remembered |
| This motherfucker’s been gone since November |
| December, January, February, March |
| April’s almost here, no signs of him at all |
| I guess it’s cool now, I guess it cooled down |
| Not knowing that he’s about to make a move now |
| Pull up in a light grey Escort, bad shots |
| Nine three edition, switch for the stash box |
| Black mask, gloves, duct tape and a razor |
| P89, flashlight, and a Taser |
| Yeah I owe you a favor, no neighbor, the lights are out |
| Picked the lock, clicked the Glock, tip toed right in the house |
| Real long ago, I remember the past |
| When you crept up in the kitchen, tried to murder my ass |
| Seen a light at the end of the hall, started to sweat y’all |
| Crept behind the table, dining room like a mess hall |
| Heard footsteps crept slow, who |
| Can’t freeze up now, strike quick the death blow |
| But hesitated, had to see those eyes again |
| Dip behind the door where I guess I’ll hide again |
| I was lying in my bedroom and woke up thirsty |
| Not knowing that the man I attacked was gonna murk me |
| I’m walking down the hall, no thoughts at all |
| I heard the hardwood floor start to creak while I walk |
| But it was out of place, this sound was in the distance |
| My enemy jumped out and waved the gun persistent |
| I rushed him, the gun fell, slipped under the table |
| We both reached out, tried to grab it, wasn’t able |
| His mask came off, «I recall that I saw you» |
| That’s what he said when I shot him, it was awful |
| Glass breaking, hands flyin', the pistol we was eyein' |
| Reaching out, we were tryin' |
| Both got closer, grabbed it, the gun cocked |
| It’s waving both ways, a pistol that off one shot |