Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Desperate, artist - Ugly Heroes. Album song Ugly Heroes, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 20.05.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Mello
Song language: English
Desperate |
Yeah |
Bring the drums in |
Uh, yeah |
A 1−2, yeah |
Yeah, what the fuck am I supposed to do? |
Yeah, supposed to do |
Check it out, uh |
Listen |
I’m in my flat flat broke, last smoke |
The voice in the back of my mind sighs have hope |
I have rope, I could end it all feelin' that |
Local rapper found hanging from a ceiling fan |
That would be the easy way out though |
But what would that amount to apart from a outro? |
It’s not what I’m about yo, I’m never for shortcuts |
And taking life is never right, that’s something the lord does |
Sortin' through these past dues, my choices led to bad moves |
No soap in the bathroom, I don’t want to hustle but I have to |
Back to the drawing board |
Zip locks stock up on what the clients want |
I am taught but I won’t listen |
Self-destructive sort of like I wanna fail |
But what I want to feel isn’t what moves me |
Why I grab a pen and stick the tip to this loose-leaf |
So what the fuck are we supposed to do? |
What the fuck are we supposed to do? |
Don’t even have a rope to hold on to |
So what the fuck are we supposed to do? |
Come on |
No way out for us to make that move |
So what the fuck are we supposed to do? |
What the fuck are we supposed to do? |
Tell me what are we supposed to do? |
While these motherfuckers pop bottles |
I’m taking pop bottles back into the store so I can get some Top Ramen |
What the fuck they know about that rock-bottom? |
Everyone I know is feeling down-trodden |
Everyone I know has thought about robbin' |
I’m not talkin' 'bout a stick up, uh |
I’m talkin' liftin' up that drawer before that afternoon pick-up |
Shattering that tax bracket you sick of |
On some get up, get out and get some this shit, come on |
The mind wanders when you’re poverty-stricken |
And only hope you’re holding on to is a lottery ticket |
Bills piling up so don’t see you smiling much |
Start thinking of some violent stuff |
Like umm, why the fuck don’t I just get a pint of some rum |
A nine and tuck it between my teeth and say good-bye I’m done? |
Economy is down and suicides are up |
We rather die by a gun than let this world be the death of us |
This world’ll fuck you and expect you just to smile through it |
Waking up is a reminder thinking why do it? |
They wonder why these motherfuckers snap |
One minute a family man until he’s walking in that plant |
And he’s thinking, «Where the fuck’s my overtime?» |
Last resorts become solutions to a sober mind |
An empty bottle list of fucking demands like |
«Hey Joe, where you going with that gun in your hand?» |
Yeah, feeling like there’s one way out of this hole |
Feel the weight of the world, your hate feeling out of control |
Either I’mma see the light or the light’ll burn out |
No mistake though it’s never too late to turn around |
Turnin' out to be a catch 2−2 |
Not a stretch for me to fetch the 2−2 |
I know that’s a bit theatrical |
But this poison is pungent, it’s just so suspect |
How much I’ve been avoiding the subject |