| Six-up, five-oh, pigs come, I cop n' go.
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| The blotter shows they got me on the rocks like Galapagos.
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| Good luck finding critters creepy as me. |
| They shoulda fried me, I’ll give ya
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| PTSD
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| Vodka shots droppin' down the throat they been stompin' on.
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| Cockin' guns, lockin' up, the quotas all for shock n' awe.
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| Drivin’s tirin', and I been hot-wirin' to make my get away from the jailbreak
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| riot and
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| Cellmates scrapin' upon the bricks in the basement,
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| tryin' to escape this probation generation- too late!
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| Crazy fuckers' gotta do the time.
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| Committed to the mental ward, committing all the crimes.
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| I’m alive and kickin' till the split ends fray.
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| Maybe plead insane, guilty, but I’m not to blame!
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| I’m a slave to the main vein, sprayin' on the mainframe.
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| Suffering the infrastructure, hoping I can maintain!
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| Oh how I know how I go how I go. |
| Ask me a question the answer I know.
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| Yes or no options don’t weigh out and so; |
| I don’t ever see the cons and the
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| pros.
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| You bare a striking resemblance.
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| Some kind of semblance of somethin' I been rememberin'.
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| You appear familiar dear. |
| You look just like my bathroom mirror.
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| Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. |
| Oh please, let me go!
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| Please police- is it a test? |
| I won’t know till I’m under arrest.
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| The drunk-tank's blood red. |
| Junkie’s gonna relapse.
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| Some think punk’s dead, me I don’t believe that.
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| Rock n' roll gatherin' the moss till I be that lichen-coated boulder,
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| make you slip,
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| Bust your kneecap!
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| Open on the amazon, hide the cure for cancer.
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| I’m Lance Armstrong, you’re the necromancer.
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| Slash n' burn, crash into the 42nd answer,
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| all my fellow skeletons adore the army ants here.
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| Flies on my eyeballs, scabs on my elbows.
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| Heaven knows God’s sittin' up there like «Hell no!»
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| Only one thing comes to those who wait. |
| Is it too late to embrace your fate?
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| My death come swiftly and gently to you.
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| Mayhem, cry mayday, and oncoming doom.
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| Save your convictions, they never will do. |
| What you say’s at least 1/6
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| billionth true.
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| You bare a striking resemblance.
|
| Some kind of semblance of somethin' I been rememberin'.
|
| You appear familiar dear. |
| You look just like my bathroom mirror.
|
| Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. |
| Oh please, let me go!
|
| Please police- is it a test? |
| I won’t know till I’m under arrest.
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| Am I being detained? |
| Am I under arrest?
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| Read me my rights please. |
| I want my phone call.
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| Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. |
| Oh please, let me go!
|
| Please police- is it a test? |
| I won’t know till I’m under arrest. |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 6up 5oh Copout (Pro / Con), artist - Will Wood and the Tapeworms. Album song Everything Is a Lot, in the genre Джаз