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heath mcnease - don't wake daddy lyrics

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[verse 1]
i got bars
snap necks of a lesser
collect checks now work less to impress her
direct text to the next best of the esthers
the flip turn hester with barrettes on my dresser
kings and jesters
freaks and lepers
sleek trendsetters
and [?] fran dreschers
play chess on ’em
it’s the free man’s checkers
with the p-wns and the queens and the king’s ancestors
talk soft and carry a big louisville
a tire 59 iron to improve your grill
all these pop star theatrics
and [?] sk!ll
wishing to god i’da settled for the bluish pill
but i gobbled up a red
keanu and myself are probably on the set
with that john woo ch0r-ography instead
[?] turtlenecks and a shotty full o’ lead

[verse 2]
it’s the brown haired, brown eye
cow town ally
ee c-mmings pretty how town magi
minus gaspar, melchior, plus balthasar
said i odom without lamar
put on that kevlar vest coming out the car
[?] tech smart vets out after dark
etch it on a tablet of stone for some album art
hit ’em with a spoonerism
[?] malaprop
front seat, denzel, training day
gave me angel dust but i’da done it anyway
acid trip look like the set for the dating game
tailor-made cyborg built for the paper chase
is it connect four, life, or grape escape?
’cause i’m playing don’t wake daddy in her favorite place
but the pu-rum-pum-pum-pum made the neighbors wake
with a food fridge minus whipped cream and gatorade

[verse 3]
(yeah goes like this)
(ha ha yeah)
and that’s how you wrap it up
sing a song and they say i don’t rap enough
i write a rap and they say i don’t sing enough
i stay holy and they say i don’t swing enough
i got no box, got no genre
just a bunch of rapper friends that smoke ganja
just a bunch of hipster fans that go bonnaroo lsd tent
headphones on ’em
with a sl!ck [?]
put you on front street
french kiss promoters
just get this over
just give ‘im closure
just tell them i’m not pinterested, homer
with hair like lloyd christmas
harry dunne st–z
disappointing your missus
can’t see brown what’s the point of my vision
if i can’t skip town, what’s the point of my livin’?



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