lirik lagu crocker - why so simple?
(verse 1)
i find myself through a bottle and amphetamines/
zoned out, closed up, antic-p-ting weathering/
son, it’s stephen, can we speak about redemption?/
i’m on pins and needles, frozen in suspension/
backyard, victoria, working on a cigar/
pen in my hand, man, devising up my next bar/
out and about, they asking ’bout my head scar/
others, bout my music, ask if i’m the next star/
d’s in the bas-m-nt, mixing up the medicine/
i’m on a stage, loud, b-tching like a reverend/
’till the next club, politicking like a candidate/
bandit’s in the back room, playin’ with a mandolin/
plotting out the next move, area we canvasing/
tryin’ for some net worth, scheming on the back end/
take turns on the soapbox, speakin’ on our hate of/
the puppets on the radio and how they try and play us…/
(hook)
why so simple?! why so simple?!
oh…oh!
why so fickle?! why so fickle?!
why so simple?! why so simple?!
oh…oh!
why so fickle?! why so fickle?!
{walter kronkite](verse 2)
/it’s a cold world, so you better bundle up/
no socks, no shoes, no daddy warbucks/
took sh-t promised to the center of the heart/
being told the game’s over before i start/
that sh-t hit you like bricks if you ain’t ready/
i want to make it rain, surprise, no confetti/
i’m racing for the money like my name is andretti/
and my lines stay heavy, smooth like i’m riding chevy/
hands stay steady, right on track, never leftie/
the rest are going backwards like go!, set, ready/
just really know how hard i want to /
and i’ll do anything besides sell my soul /
and i can put it on life, you count on /
like i put on for hip hop, instead of rap/
and i guess that’s why all the others are wack/
i’m fact, they fiction as a matter a fact/
-repeat hook-
(verse 3)
/now…look at the doggy in the window/
/another cute mutt that’s impeding on your kinfolk/
/singing along to hoes and endo/
/wonderin’ why in the h-ll should i sit for?/
/i said “sh-t, ask rosa”/ or any other pioneer or dope composer/
they say “naw son, spark that doulja”/
“write another joint that ride for me and my soldiers”/
i respond with “read a book son, find some composure”/
“learn about culture and looking for closure”/
told me i’m a a square, “we can’t bop to this”/
“man, shorty won’t rock or gimme wop to this”/
“my box in the back won’t knock to this”/
“man crock, no offense, but this a crock of sh-t”/
i said “son there’s more than being on the block with chips”/
they say you p-ss in the wind, but can’t stop the rich/
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