Key: C major•
Intro 1
Cm
Verse 1
This is nothing delicate
This the result of your Google search
for something relevant
Stake claim immediately
'Cause hot products cool down
At which point they'll
flock to new sounds
Take fame intravenously
But when leisure turns to habit
I'll be sure to leave the scene
you started staging
This is nothing fraudulent
This is that joy shot itchy feeling lingering
behind your target audience
You got them all convinced,
but we ain't buying it, buddy
Demand for lies is high,
and you're supplying it
Truth is brutal; it consumes
you if you let it
Type that in your little away
Verse 2
message and set it
Cm
[Chorus]
Keep singing songs
That I could write in my sleep
It's like I'm counting sheep
Keep singing songs
Man, you are a lead but trouble not to be
Keep singing songs
Just follow the leader with your blah,
blah, blah
Keep singing songs
That I could write in my sleep
It's like I'm counting sheep
Verse 3
it's delegate intuition
Far beyond your bed wetter
kindergarten compositions
This is a part of me
How can you sleep at night when what
you don't write you write half heartedly?
Go join the army
And be the best you can be
Give a new meaning to blowing up over seas,
please!
We kick those boys down
when nobody would let us in
And give you that proverbial taste
of your own medicine
We took your formula and relabeled it
And sat patiently and giggled
when you drank it
Street voice and street cred run
just about the same
Pop bottles and drop
names
And you'll dismiss it 'cause
it ain't what ya used to
But who the fuck died and made
Verse 4
on your
new purchase
I heard you bought a crib
on biters block
Downtown plagiarism's paradise
You're not a movement,
you're purely amusement
The poster boy for Xerox and
a role model for parasites
You serve no purpose,
you're purely decorative
And bore us to death with
your auditory sedatives
No, we don't sleep
And hog tie your runaway
bride with cold feet
We built this city on lock
and load logic
And burned it down the same night
So go ahead and put your tears on ice,
baby
I think we got a winner
And kiss your crucifix; your boy's
a certified sinner
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TunerE A D G B E
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