paroles de chanson Worlds to Run (featuring Milo, Anderson Paak) - Busdriver, Milo & Anderson Paak

This slack-jaw mealy-mouth
I mumble when I′m 'round the house
I′m trying not to do no chores today
Crying in my underwear
I lost my sense of wonder, there
No, I'm not Milan Kundera
Though this lightness is unbearable
The feeling is indelible
I'm wishing I could teleport somewhere
Transmolecularize through the secular eye
I remember when Vegeta stomped Bardock′s neck in
Two prayer hands to the heavens
Good Lord, bless Him
I was a broke slob watching Ghost Dog
Writing Post Hoc
If I could muster just one good throat chop
And honor my shidoshi
Because ′dim mak' means ′death touch'
I been Spock, I been clutch
In thin socks, I′m butthurt
Impervious pervert with niggerish fervour
Crashing Linux server
Who didn't to change his laundry over
Who needs to buy toilet paper
Indie rapper, sorta faker
′Cause I couldn't afford a mortgage or a Studebaker
'Cause I couldn′t afford a mortgage or a Studebaker

When you′re deep in the raw
Everybody wants to get a piece of your heart
There's only so much truth you can keep in your vault
Speak your piece, but words are too harsh

Overspoke my piece (Hold my, hold my, hold my piece, yeah)
Now I′m known in the streets (I hope I don't break, ayy)
When you′re deep in the raw
There's only so much truth you can keep in your jaw
So what you saying? (Ooh)
I can run the world from my mama′s house
I can run the world from my mama's house
I can run the world from my mama's house
I can run the world

When you′re deep in the wrong (Yeah)
There′s only so much truth you can keep in your jaw
'Till it bleeds through the wall
When you′re deep in the raw

Every song responds to a threat
Every laundered dollar's wet
But I′ve met moms like a song torn breath
I've met moms that can ponder the depth
And the kings sorta stink of lunacy
My roller rink′s in sync with the jinx that are having me sink the moon and the sea
Bankers clink drinks of the uplinked to the sphinx's coonery
I'm on the brink, I could fill my sink with the king′s jewelery
Yeah, who is he? Driver—lion from a dead world
Sole practitioner of his customs and know the RPM of your head twirl
Driver old as fuck
My daughter old enough to vote
Rap songs blowing up on the coast
Loyal subjects rolling up that smoke
As I dictate terms from an ensnarled perch
Yeah, and Leimert Park is Winterfell, but it′s ruins
I learned to split a cell and pitch a sale from Mike's Citadel
Exact an explicit Hell
Empty the fire and sway
My music on Pirate′s Bay as my elusive alliances fray
I collude with a silent clay and effuse a vibrant day
With a soothing eye of decay
Putting food on the dining tray
Yeah, I can do this my way
Welcome home

When you're deep in the raw
Everybody wants to get a piece of your heart
There′s only so much truth you can keep in your vault
Speak your piece, but words are too harsh

When I was a younger man
I could feel the entire world
But now that I'm older...

When you′re deep in the raw
There's only so much truth you can keep in your jaw
So what you saying? (Ooh)
I can run the world from my mama's house (Ayy, yeah)
I can run the world from my mama′s house
I can run the world from my mama′s house
I can run the world

When you're deep in the raw
There′s only so much truth you can keep in your jaw