oncue - friends lyrics
[hook:]
i can see through your bullsh-t
running in the air, and i don’t really care (cause)
all i need…
is real people, and real music and real people
and no i don’t want new friends
cause i don’t wanna feel like i have to pretend
(it’s all i need)
is real people, and real music and real people
sorry this ain’t back pack, sorry this ain’t frat rap
this might seem abstract
all i got are sick lines it’s anthrax on amtrak
we about win i said
where the f-ck those hands at?
your girl and friends?
i don’t know what do with em
no one taken our lane
see we drivin drunk taken up two of em
i didn’t move to brooklyn to be a hipster
i moved to brooklyn to see the big the picture
it’s only when you leave, that’s when they wanna miss ya
but when your there for ’em, all they wanna do is diss ya
and never call you again, if you don’t deliver
so let’s sip the elixir
call the waitress over and tip her
don’t hit me on twitter
when you see me getting bigger
i don’t any friends,
all i want are those figures
see the thing is, they all just imitating
but down the road their f-ckin themselves,
it’s masturbation
they ain’t real, they ain’t real – see it’s only entertainment
they ain’t in the streets
if they’re backs laying on the pavement
talkin sh-t, it ain’t me – but i do it on occasion
c-ckin back and i’m aiming at all y’all who’s lamin
claimin fame goin down the drain
man, you ain’t sh-t
you a dame, only a stain see me i’m the sh-t
[hook:]
i can see through your bullsh-t
running in the air, and i don’t really care (cause)
all i need…
is real people, and real music and real people
and no i don’t want new friends
cause i don’t wanna feel like i have to pretend
(it’s all i need)
is real people, and real music and real people
they say, cuey mr. oncue
you smooth as a silk
meanwhile drinkin black coffee
cause i can’t afford no milk
they shootin, don’t sweat it
your a pimp
but the only thing in my pockets
is wrappers and lint
nah… she couldn’t do it
neither could she
neither could this jager
neither could this weed
every weekend i’d rage
wake up sunday
face minimum wage
sh-t i need to get paid
last night i got laid
but what did it do for me?
except, i don’t gotta clikc on youp-rn this morning
i’m torn in between tourin
and dormin… sourin… to the top
my dad always said quit hugging the pot!
this whole time i wasn’t bitin’
i was writin for the enlightened
so when you smell my sh-t, is when i’m a start wipin
can you tell these other rappers
i’m a f-ck the game backwards
go ahead pigeon hole me
homie you don’t even know me
you ain’t compet-tion you a cronie
of a b-m, mama look what i’ve become
they googlin me like crack heads, look at your son!
so stop with the comparisons
don’t know
look sarah palin an
i realized these rappers suck they own d-ck
manson, marilyn
your girls doing my work at the sheridan
nah i ain’t trying to be arrogant
i got soul in me, it’s been apparent since
they wanna buy me out like merrill lynch
nah i ain’t forfitting a some flowers and a coffin in a hurst
would be more fitting than this white collar ball licking
wake up and look at the life we’re all living
you can’t trust no one
any more than you could throw em
watch me crash down as i’m a move up on the totem
nah i don’t know ’em you sure you told’em
yeah homie i told’em
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