Sage Francis - Garden Gnomes lyrics

rate me

(I'm over time)

Welcome to my life (welcome)

Welcome to my life (welcome)

Welcome to my life (welcome)

Welcome to my life where everybody wants to cipher

They've never held a mic, but they swear they nice,

‘cause they boys told ‘em so

and surely enough they suck my dick in front of they girlfriend like

“Look, this is how you do it, you gotta fuckin' do it slow then fast, slow then fast,

eat that shit”, check-check

If this is you, you're not alone

This world's a rock of drones

Girls flock like birds

Cause they heard lots of poems from the mystery man

When my name gets spit it echoes

Straight-laced people say grace with evil smiles

I'll stick to Velcro

Let go of these claims I hold true

This is Sage, don't say I ain't told you

Fake gold tooth

Real problems with garden gnomes who talk shit

My respect's the best bargain known to the consumin' market

So pay me it

To my love-hate relationship with love-hate relationships

Makes me rich

My old lady thinks that I done did it

But I done didn't

Save my breath during dramatic movie endings hold the stub of the ticket

When credits roll I'm heading for the exit hole

Your track record is such a short shelf-life bless its soul

It's about you, all about you

That's probably why you don't really respect it or know how to

Fuck a fickle fan base, stuck a middle finger in they damn face

Does the pinnacle of my hand taste dirty like the suggestive gesture

You're best to drop out the school of hard knocks

Get murdered by stress and pressure, pressure-cooker

I leave the party with a mass amount of assed-out demo tapes to butcher

“Could ya give it a little bit of a listen, bro?”

Into – “do me a favor and play it on a big system though”

Into – “give me a detailed critique of my hot shit”

“Sure thing boss, I'll get right on it”

Oh hell no he didn't, oh yes he done did my friend

Think he was so very special among the hundred thousand

You play the fence, your flow is weak and your concepts suck

It makes no sense, slow to speak – your logic's fucked

You made no dents over beats that got lots of cuts

Noise you do have toys like you stocked with Tonka Trunks

You're not a lone, this world's a rock of drones

Who rock microphones and abuse generous ears

With the “yeah, yeah . . . off the dome”

You're not a lone, this world is stocked with clones

And my dear Watson's are coming to bite a style near you

You best for sure lock your homes

You best for sure lock your homes

You best for sure lock your homes

You best for sure lock your homes and beware,

Beware the garden gnomes.