Busdriver - Here's To Us lyrics
[Busdriver - Here's To Us lyrics]
Yeah, yeah a yeah a yeah
Hey, let me talk to these people
Ey, I got the 20-something
Rap guy anthem right
Here in my hands y'all check it out
It's for you young buck, or old buck
Or middle-aged buck whatever
You got a face like an impaled vagina
You're from a Carolina
Yet you spell your name with
An umlaut and parentheses
You embody foot-in-mouth disease
So, it's right that you write
A book about MCs it's like, cheers
Here's To Us
And all the nothing that we promised to do
Here's To Us
Who else is gonna be this honest with you
It's clear enough we're near the cusp
Of a long-encompassing stroke of genius
I need you to leave peeves
We've had enough of your shit
Well should we help you?
Cuz I spit butane uh is it inhumane if I uh
Just get a few things
Yeah
I'm in stores with engorged grocery lists
I ain't buying I'm scratching
Off my homies' shit
A weeknight's a rewrite of Moby Dick
I sleep tight and dreaming
Hearing pre-flight safety tips
My room smells of steamed rice and baby shit
Cuz I'm consumed with what gets
Played through the cross fader
How ya mean I'm Lebron James
Of the Bronze Age
Renaissance nigga so I never
Learned to ball play
I missed a job in the views of movie sets
The vaporized weed with a jacuzzi jet
Cuz now I won't be the spokes
Man and for booty sweat
And break character for school
I'm an anti-socialite
On karaoke night I request Deep Purple
It makes my sacra complete
Though it's a semi-circle
But the dance floor's a
Class war dress rehearsal
I won't stand for it
I'm sipping Merlot in the first row like
Cheers
Oh!
My personal unemployment rate is cringeworthy
And my party don't stop until
About a six a thirty
In the morning I break it in
The afternoons with my dick dirty
Knowing I'll be dead and famous
Before I hit thirty
But, if I studied I could
Have been a neurosurgeon
Instead me and my band
Are busy circle jerking
Squeezing out a stroke of
Genius for rights to
Our intellectual properties are gonna
Need more subpoenas they're like
You should make a mixtape
You should make a sextape
For all the hater and
Bottlers that slept late
I'll write a screenplay
Yeah, that'll be the day
The musings of Tina Fey
Become a personal BofA oops
When I say cheesy shit the CD skips
My MP3s are 10cc's of pretense
So sing my praises with your teeth clenched
On smart phones that speak French
My songs are going for three pence sucker!
But, you said you killed over a song
Now you write tunes that you
Need a vocoder on
I'm trying to retire to Boca Raton
And escape the business end
Of the popo's baton and like, cheers
This one's for us not you
Even though we know you well
At least we did in the 90s
We don't like you anymore yeah
Hey, let me talk to these people
Ey, I got the 20-something
Rap guy anthem right
Here in my hands y'all check it out
It's for you young buck, or old buck
Or middle-aged buck whatever
You got a face like an impaled vagina
You're from a Carolina
Yet you spell your name with
An umlaut and parentheses
You embody foot-in-mouth disease
So, it's right that you write
A book about MCs it's like, cheers
Here's To Us
And all the nothing that we promised to do
Here's To Us
Who else is gonna be this honest with you
It's clear enough we're near the cusp
Of a long-encompassing stroke of genius
I need you to leave peeves
We've had enough of your shit
Well should we help you?
Cuz I spit butane uh is it inhumane if I uh
Just get a few things
Yeah
I'm in stores with engorged grocery lists
I ain't buying I'm scratching
Off my homies' shit
A weeknight's a rewrite of Moby Dick
I sleep tight and dreaming
Hearing pre-flight safety tips
My room smells of steamed rice and baby shit
Cuz I'm consumed with what gets
Played through the cross fader
How ya mean I'm Lebron James
Of the Bronze Age
Renaissance nigga so I never
Learned to ball play
I missed a job in the views of movie sets
The vaporized weed with a jacuzzi jet
Cuz now I won't be the spokes
Man and for booty sweat
And break character for school
I'm an anti-socialite
On karaoke night I request Deep Purple
It makes my sacra complete
Though it's a semi-circle
But the dance floor's a
Class war dress rehearsal
I won't stand for it
I'm sipping Merlot in the first row like
Cheers
Oh!
My personal unemployment rate is cringeworthy
And my party don't stop until
About a six a thirty
In the morning I break it in
The afternoons with my dick dirty
Knowing I'll be dead and famous
Before I hit thirty
But, if I studied I could
Have been a neurosurgeon
Instead me and my band
Are busy circle jerking
Squeezing out a stroke of
Genius for rights to
Our intellectual properties are gonna
Need more subpoenas they're like
You should make a mixtape
You should make a sextape
For all the hater and
Bottlers that slept late
I'll write a screenplay
Yeah, that'll be the day
The musings of Tina Fey
Become a personal BofA oops
When I say cheesy shit the CD skips
My MP3s are 10cc's of pretense
So sing my praises with your teeth clenched
On smart phones that speak French
My songs are going for three pence sucker!
But, you said you killed over a song
Now you write tunes that you
Need a vocoder on
I'm trying to retire to Boca Raton
And escape the business end
Of the popo's baton and like, cheers
This one's for us not you
Even though we know you well
At least we did in the 90s
We don't like you anymore yeah