lirik lagu itsthechef - young america
(verse 1)
i’m at a stalemate, stand still, metal on the anvil
beat the brat hard, make him humble or his dad will
in the zone on advil, two stellas down the hatch
postpone my relapse till the rework next patch
and i’m gone like my mom at the dragon hill lodge
gone like natasha when i give her a m-ssage
and i’m gone like me when i’m dodging calls from raj
and/or any obligation from the likes of men or god
habits grown on seepersaud, and boy, it’s super sad to see
mini, goddess of nothing, always probing my dad
is there a best i’ve ever had for the have-nots? can we not talk?
since we don’t play the same game, ‘cept for growing pains and street pot
f-ck hitler, i am pol pot, keep me up in fort knox
all men, same island, i’mma tip ’em like they montauk
underground asylum, it’s a jackpot, subculture
c-sectioned, god-tier, grunge rock, smash clocks
no time, give me back my childhood, kindly
if you wish to screw me over, don’t you dare do it smiling
dialing, numbers to the parents, johnny’s
trap track is too loud, fingers chinese
high knees, high knees, never let your guard down
don’t forget to thank and please, or they’ll take your dog to the
pound, how’s that sound, johnny boy? will you listen?
will you give me satisfaction? will you love me just a fraction?
in that moment, i’d felt a way i never had before
no discussion or anything of the sort
a combination of shame, pain, disgrace
as i plunged my whole length in the hole beneath her waist
are we right? are we alright? staying up all night
watching screens, m-st-rbation, television trash talking
through a server in chicago to a teenager in austin
lost in translation with a whole f-cking nation
(respite)
can you see me now? when the clouds cast upon the sky?
no sun to contest with, man has no ethics
stand on high horses with a twenty foot ladder
jeff hardy swantoning on someone else’s brother
am i my brother’s keeper? should i know where he stands?
or how low he may lay? what his strokes with a pen say?
i don’t know
(verse 2)
then traci said, “great,” and i’m thinking alexander
my heart is blacker than panthers, chasing answers with my antlers
charging head on, whether cavalry follows
i’dda f-ck, suck, and swallow till my body lays hollow
if it’d mean i’d made it, though my mother’d hate it
but ma, i’m satiated, in a way i’m on my best behavior
i just wanna be happy, don’t you want it too?
so i can be strong, hold both me and you
i wouldn’t say life’s a thing to think it through, but roll with a pin into
submission like my pizza do, whiskin wind with my open
hand, brisk winter walks with a desert tan
dry air, rich land, poor humor, wet sand
fabricated stories out of vietnam, slower jams
speeding up the heart rate like lingerie can
all men, same island off the coast of boracay in
phila-pi, life’s a circle, make a choice to settle in
current’s strong when the fin’s right, loose when the beat’s tight, magic, might, palestine, existential fight
battle of the mind and astrological signs
how do you judge a child if he’s never been left behind?
and eight of our nine shots tasted sour
lush smelled of bowery ballroom, the rush i get from all whom
dance their -sses off like they’re cartoons, don’t make it your
agenda, start lacking character when your life is legal tender
(reprisal)
i enter, a zone for the beginners
soldiering the winter on spam and chicken gizzards
i wanna hold your hand when you blow me
and hear you say, “you owe me,” after dressing down accordingly
finger’s twitching steadily after double shot espresso into
single shot tequila into
balcony pipe hits with tylexandra bieler into
sweet potato chips i’ve been slicing with a mandoline
all this depression i’ve been handelin’ with
dr. barbara moore from queens college counseling
my middle finger’s in the air when i’m
staring down reflections in the mirror not familiar
inferiority complex when i’m
pushing weight on cybex machines after spotting zipper
gooch on a bench press, ate’s at a gold’s gym
squat rack, texting back between sets, “you got this.”
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