[Verse 1: Christon Gray]
I'm slick as Rick with the pen, so call me Crisco
Still waiting on my Mercedes like The Count of Monte Cristo
It's been slow, so my Camry will have to do
Until 2028 and then I'm handing it down to Blue
Yesteryear was like the best of years, uh huh
All I had was my pad, the writing came from my dad
The voice came from my mother, the keys came from jazz
I used to mix it with the classical
In the basement stacking sounds with my Casio
I've been misunderstood for a Mr. Know-it-all
By my dear friend William, thought we'd raise each other's children
Now we at each other's necks, and what's next is broken jaws
So we accept, neglect the protocol
Left my trouble on treble clefs, yet I hope he calls
One minute we living it up, next thing I know now it's Geronimo
But you can ask the rainbow, life is full of ups and downs
But at the end it's still a pot of gold
And so I'm praying that these Leprechauns can reconcile
Until then I'll see Billy on the holiday, God bless the child
The short end of the stick is always the weakest
And only a fool plays pool with broken English
We like kingpins against caterpillars
Who haven't switched to butterflies let alone gorillas
We like kingpins against caterpillars
Who haven't switched to butterflies let alone gorillas
[Hook: Christon Gray]
So let's go fellas, the Coachella's waiting and
I wanna see if we can get on the stage
On the coattails of some old Elevationists
I wanna see if we remember the days
I wanna see if we remember the days
[Verse 2: Taelor Gray]
Microphone check, like a hockey term
This is Odyssy, we in it like a soccer mom
We all up in them taste buds sonically
I got a loaded shotty and I'm tryna kill a mockingbird
Cause this originality, so give me the music fresh
A festival, fresh as a Bethesda pool
Yeah He's risen but we cryptic when we speak the truth
It's hard to keep it really real when everything's a Jesus [?]
I should have saved that for the note pad
It feel's different when you rapping from the Notes app
Yes we still will keep it live
Empty out that magazine if you try to kill my vibe
That's that second amendment flow
I'm chugging the engine, go
The peddle floored, rapping be the metaphor
Playing with a [?] so I'm calling it a settled score
What y'all tripping bout the Devil for
The funny thing is I've never been a Tribe fan
This ain't Cleveland
Ain't no feeling like that live band killing
Man they killing for the evening
Good evening, Hitchcock
They call it hip hop, I'm young black and living
With the pick pocket's rhythm, before you know it's gone
Man I had to [?] I'm tryna find Sinai
I found out I was sipping on cyanide
The room is spinning, circular reasoning
I had to surf and turf, they serve it in the Riesling
This the first date, working on my chivalry
With more butterflies than an intermural swimming league
And so I treat it like the first time
We treat it like the first time
Pen hit the paper, young Christ and Taelor
Was on an elevator and we waiting for the top floor
I'm kind of cool on that Tom Ford
[Hook: Taelor Gray]
So let's go fellas, the Coachella's waiting and
I wanna see if we can get on the stage
On the coattails of some old Elevationists
I wanna see if we remember the days
So let's go fellas, the Coachella's waiting and
I wanna see if we can get on the stage
On the coattails of some old Elevationists
I wanna see if we remember the days
