LYRICS
Use A− / A+ to adjust text sizeSam Is Dead (Feat. Domo Genesis)
[Verse 1: Domo]This life is a game, if you wanna play, counting all your own mistakesLiving it with no delay, so fast I'm getting growing painsFather didn't show me my instincts to take the open laneI go insane, all the problems come with my growing ageBlowing haze, tryna clear the doubt that's sitting on my brainI don't complain but the kid inside me's feeling so restrainedGotta stay golden, let desire rekindle the flameSearching for the Fountain of Youth, when I'm free in my brain[Bridge]Bring in the horns, you hear that fucking brass?That's little boy nigga with the trumpetsMarching with the bandwagonLooking for his heart, no sleeve but his hand carry musketsWorking in the meadows, OblivionMothafuck Geppetto, he's a leader, not a puppetSome professors nuttier than Klump's dickSo think before you blink and "Aye-Aye" make assumptions[Hook]Niggas! (Your left! Your left! Your left, right, left!)Niggas is coming! (Your left! Your left! Your left, right, left!)[Verse 2: Tyler]They want a story - a story? I write the shitThat I find very amusing cause all the other fuckin' stories are boringIt's really awkward to know, that a bunch of kids do adore meIt's like I fathered these fuckers, so you won't find me on MauryI'm still a kid in my heart, so I have a problem maturingBut it will come from experiences and shit I see touringI'm like a bird when I'm soaring, really highAnd I'm really horny, from watching this porn.. nope, but[Bridge]Bring in the horns, you hear that fucking brass?That's little boy nigga with the trumpetsMarching with the bandwagonLooking for his heart, no sleeve but his hand carry musketsWorking in the meadows, OblivionMothafuck Geppetto, he's a leader, not a puppetSome professors nuttier than Klump's dickSo think before you blink and "Aye-Aye" make assumptions[Hook]Niggas! (Your left! Your left! Your left, right, left!)Niggas is coming! (Your left! Your left! Your left, right, left!)[Interlude]5, 4, 3, 2, and where's Tyler?[Verse 3: Tyler]Bottom of the countdown, shit ain't been the sameSince I found out Hodgy Beats ghost wrote for Bow-WowNow I'm the loud, shot, body-styled, foul mouth fuckerThat your teenage kid, likes to bow downRiding around town in SeattleWith the same shotgun that Kurt used to click-clack, boom-powStill suicidal, but some assume that I'm cool nowCause I got a fuckin' award in my own room nowNope, but I can flip shit like a couch pillowAnd have my death silent like a loose vowThe bandwagon turned into caboose, soSo, don't let that little nigga trumpet lose sound, just let him play
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