Barcade Lyrics – Atmosphere

Barcade Lyrics by Atmosphere

Uh
Duck, duck, I’m too next
Punks jump to get suplexed
My two cents is y’all f#cked up

So come buddy up with these moose heads
I get blood and guts on my work clothes
So no turncoats and no funny stuff
I go turbo, ya do run run, or get chaperoned back to bumblef#ck

Rabbit holes on rabbit holes, with no long goodbyes, I just vamonos
I might reappear as some vagabond who yell dirty words into a traffic cone
Ain’t sh#t but some sick joke, I don’t mix well with this milquetoast
Day ones get wished well, but I give hell to these bridge trolls

It go late night, I’m no saint, I’m so gone, don’t change
I ain’t old school, I ain’t new school
I’m more no school like snow days
Stowaways start popping out, posse up on y’all stomping grounds

Mainstays turn nomad, it’s still no match for these foxhounds
Smokestack, I’m dead inside, four wheels, one hell ride
Two hands with ten middle fingers, one sh#t grin, two pecked eyes
All pressurized

Ante up, my tantrum is on full tilt
Drum roll, come talk tough, I’m like cough cough, it’s all b#llsh#t
Shitty fingers in your weed jar
This whole world is like VR

Free shows at the rebar
All hokey and yeehaw
Keep plucking your guitar
See par dipped off the price is right

Free car, we are
Bob Barker, much darker
Black parka, fat marker
Mic sparker

Metal face, more bodies than a
Night stalker
Ramirez switching all the he says, she says
Prefer to follow her

Unless she itching between these legs
Meticulous, hero shine, zero swine, green eggs
Pack got more whiny rappers that’s more annoying than scene kids
Villain crush green dust into fine powder

Vanilla Dutch, pop clutch, feel rush
Feel up on the real nuts
No pause, rappers all broads, no bras
Violating all the smoke laws

White lies, folklores, bleed out, no gauze
Zombies with their headsets
Nah, he’s not dead yet, bet
Been centuries fighting armies and these death threats

Take a breath before we sink into the depth of darkness
The rich people are tryin’ to eat you, better protect your armpits
Mommy, pick up your telephone and accept the charges
I’ll see you next thirsty Thursday when I collect your garbage

They unfamiliar, but they still present respect regardless
Never starvin’ for attention, never begged for pardons
I checked your references, they all said that you’re extra harmless
I’ll straight up f#ckin’ son you, then I’ll catch some bargains

I might be your plug, it depends on where your heart is
You might be my plug, it depends on where your farm is
I’ll take a smart dog with sauerkraut and Parmesan
And you can find me tryin’ to make party until the stars are gone

First-time caller, tryin’ to holler at Martians
I might be servin’ cauliflower at the farmers market
Rest in peace to all the energy outside of the margin
And leave a candle in the window, that’s for Michael Larsen
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com

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Atmosphere Lyrics – Barcade

Atmosphere

Barcade