Paroles The Fall of T.R.O.Y. de B. Dolan

Textes et Paroles de The Fall of T.R.O.Y.

P.O.S.:
As I perspire through my pigment
Fire a cigarette, sire some newness
Dire corners stay dim lit
Dim wits stickin to rugers,
Slim kids sticking to coolness
Brollic youth'll get ruthless
Foolish will end up toothless

I slide through
Die when I'm lied to
(lie back)

Lay down, been dead, no salutes
No crowns, right?
They yellin 'hurry up and buy,
open your mouth and shut your eyes'
and no one even acts surprised no more...
Knowmore.org
So sore no pores enough to support
what i need to flush
All we need is a rush
All we need is a dutch
All we need is some weed (wrong)
All we need is a push
All we need is a boost
Who can't handle the truth?
All I need is these big black motherfuckin boots.

Who are you?

(On the move... on the move... Get a grip... Get a move on... )

Cadence Weapon:
Young man is a gargoyle, get thrown off the building
And for a while, they all used to talk about building
But then the star, he got fired from the building
Then he went from song billings to bomb building
I made my drop
Cause you really used to get it, how you'd push it to the limit and
the kids vibe with it
But you stopped
Paralysis averages made on the charts have waned in the days
Since you stopped
Like a Wilson brother, you would fill song covers in the bin
'Til you get dropped
The well is dry, head is high for once until you drop
But you had nobody tell you, buddy, you should stop
Cautionary tale, auctions, every sale, so they can shop
Your remains still remain even when you're in a box
Wait to see him at wax museums for photo ops
No mas, no more, you were a whore for the props
The lock's not off, it's still on, you sing songs, but the light in
your mind's turned off
Deferred trust, rust never sleeps, why won't you just move off?

(On the move... on the move... Get a grip... Get a move on... )

B. Dolan:
Don't we love the static?
Fall back reset default automatic
Pause that,
Borders intact, cemented, all stagnant
Struck dumb, stuck to the floor
Raw arrogance
Collectible kicks, the broad spectrum is sick
We need more medicine
less cough suppressant.
Settled on a coffin fetish
and worship of solid objects
It's good to be hard but it's harder to be honest
It's nice to be smart but can you move an audience,
draw a crowd or paint a picture?
The temple sinks under the weight of scripture
The false idols and fake honors
I admit I lost faith when they chained us to the monument;
saw the waves raise to erase our accomplishment.
We're not healthy, we're just heavy.
You're not a Souljah Boy you're a mercenary
in a cryogenic sleep
Fighting windmills, locked up in a deep freeze
Froze in a still pose and sold to the museum
Acquired some new pieces but
You don't need 'em
Hand over the jewels.
This is a robbery.
Nobody moves.

C'était les paroles de The Fall of T.R.O.Y.
Voir les autres titres de B. Dolan.