Watsky - A Kid Who Made Mad Beats lyrics
[Watsky - A Kid Who Made Mad Beats lyrics]
It’s the legend of the kid
Start listening in
So many beats inside him that he
Couldn’t fit in his skin
Selekta with a deck better give him a spin
Nod you chin, baby grin
While you’re sipping a gin
Just vibe to his beats
Don’t pick the punk route
Stick em in your ear holes
Clean the gunk out
If you believe in heaven E’s
Up there dumb loud
Sitting on a cloud, with a rowdy ass crowd
Each beat oven-fresh, bish none repeats
One day he made like 50 leven hundred beats
Made the beat dough and lined
Em up on cookie sheets
In neat rows and fed the
People fifty leven hundred treats
Halfway cooks got half the cake
E’s got more cream than a calf could take
Some people just crafted to craft the break
And E crafts more breaks
Than God crafts lakes
And snakes and earthquakes, at faster rates
Makes more beats than teen kid masturbates
Grabs the crates, creates mad masterpieces
Maps to places that no path reaches
Homes for the nomad, my notepad screeches
Nose to the grindstone
There’s no bad peaches
Each is a butterfly chrysalis
I’m gonna go grab my headphones
It’s Christamis time
Cause' I knew a kid who made mad beats
Don’t get it twisted he had that heat
With the car speakers bumping
There’s no bad seats
Because I knew a kid who made mad beats
I said, I knew a kid who made mad beats
Don’t get it twisted he had that heat
With the car speakers bumping
There’s no bad seats
Because I knew a kid, I knew a kid
Beats are to E to the OM as me to a poem
Faux emcees don’t tread on this low-end
So, friend I’ll meet you on that
Golden road that’s got no end
Where we’re all going
We’ll smoke some shit with a mellow kick
Skip down the yellow brick, sip some Modelos
Spit a little literature like our lips
Were fitted a Brita filter
With some fine fellow pure fucka no manure
While doodoo DJs smelling like an open sewer
You were spinning that potpourri
That Phonte, that Chron, that Jodeci
Jubilee in your town, jewels in your crown
School’s out now, come on hold us down
You got the sound
And we got the ears and such
And Wax got the dutch and the beers and such
Come on
I knew a kid who made mad beats
Don’t get it twisted he had that heat
Car speakers bumping, there’s no bad seats
I said, I knew a kid who made mad beats
I knew a kid who made mad beats
Don’t get it twisted he had that heat
With the car speakers bumping
There’s no bad seats
Because I knew a kid who made mad beats
I said, I knew a kid who made mad beats
Don’t get it twisted he had that heat
With the car speakers bumping
There’s no bad seats
I said, I knew a kid who made mad beats
I said, I knew a kid who made mad beats
I knew a kid who made mad beats
Start listening in
So many beats inside him that he
Couldn’t fit in his skin
Selekta with a deck better give him a spin
Nod you chin, baby grin
While you’re sipping a gin
Just vibe to his beats
Don’t pick the punk route
Stick em in your ear holes
Clean the gunk out
If you believe in heaven E’s
Up there dumb loud
Sitting on a cloud, with a rowdy ass crowd
Each beat oven-fresh, bish none repeats
One day he made like 50 leven hundred beats
Made the beat dough and lined
Em up on cookie sheets
In neat rows and fed the
People fifty leven hundred treats
Halfway cooks got half the cake
E’s got more cream than a calf could take
Some people just crafted to craft the break
And E crafts more breaks
Than God crafts lakes
And snakes and earthquakes, at faster rates
Makes more beats than teen kid masturbates
Grabs the crates, creates mad masterpieces
Maps to places that no path reaches
Homes for the nomad, my notepad screeches
Nose to the grindstone
There’s no bad peaches
Each is a butterfly chrysalis
I’m gonna go grab my headphones
It’s Christamis time
Cause' I knew a kid who made mad beats
Don’t get it twisted he had that heat
With the car speakers bumping
There’s no bad seats
Because I knew a kid who made mad beats
I said, I knew a kid who made mad beats
Don’t get it twisted he had that heat
With the car speakers bumping
There’s no bad seats
Because I knew a kid, I knew a kid
Beats are to E to the OM as me to a poem
Faux emcees don’t tread on this low-end
So, friend I’ll meet you on that
Golden road that’s got no end
Where we’re all going
We’ll smoke some shit with a mellow kick
Skip down the yellow brick, sip some Modelos
Spit a little literature like our lips
Were fitted a Brita filter
With some fine fellow pure fucka no manure
While doodoo DJs smelling like an open sewer
You were spinning that potpourri
That Phonte, that Chron, that Jodeci
Jubilee in your town, jewels in your crown
School’s out now, come on hold us down
You got the sound
And we got the ears and such
And Wax got the dutch and the beers and such
Come on
I knew a kid who made mad beats
Don’t get it twisted he had that heat
Car speakers bumping, there’s no bad seats
I said, I knew a kid who made mad beats
I knew a kid who made mad beats
Don’t get it twisted he had that heat
With the car speakers bumping
There’s no bad seats
Because I knew a kid who made mad beats
I said, I knew a kid who made mad beats
Don’t get it twisted he had that heat
With the car speakers bumping
There’s no bad seats
I said, I knew a kid who made mad beats
I said, I knew a kid who made mad beats
I knew a kid who made mad beats