"BIGOS" lyrics
Need a little more, uh, I need a little more swagger on it, some charisma
Just a little more bravado, if you got the bravado in you, you know?
Got the bravado, woo
This an elevated train of thought
On the internet, that's where I left my brain to rot
My attention span is eh, well, that explains a lot
How do I phrase it? Guns blazin', boy, I came in hot
Check the Fahrenheit, I'm usin' up a terabyte of space inside my mind
When I get mentally prepared to write
I've got an electrician here to repair the lights
'Cause I've been blackin' out so much it's now an issue
Proof the boy's a fiend
I keep a list inside my wallet of the people that attempted to destroy my dreams
Drink LaCroix and clean the living room, avoid the screens
When I was young, I used to wanna skate for Toy Machine
Or Birdhouse, but it turns out
My grind was better spent on tracks gettin' these words out
The word's out
I'm at the pub on my third stout
Burnt out but still never heard of the word doubt
I'm pushin' through
My main job is to find beats
And share a little knowledge helpin' others to find peace
The time sheet's filled with endless hours and fine tweaks
Since I was on a yellow school bus with assigned seats, I studied rap
That's no exaggeration
A lot of people think the way I do but somewhere down the road lost their imagination
I'm here to help 'em rediscover it, rekindle it, recover it
I know you had the flame until they smothered it
Tell Spotify to give me a raise, those stream payouts barely minimum wage
Locked in, I really live in my cave
Had an epiphany in 2021 around the time that I wrote Digging My Grave
I'm still diggin' my ways through this industry
The stress is showin' visibly
My hair's startin' to fill in with greys, but fuck it
Age graceful, stay grateful
Messed around, made a ton of mistakes
But still I ain't shameful
I want designer, then I saw how much that shit cost
Fuck it, let's just hit Ross, at least we won't get ripped off, right?
Beat the pussy up. I hit it with a hip toss
I'm such a catch she probably wish the rubber slipped off, uh
Keep it movin' if I'm picked off
Cookin' Polish stew, the one that got the thick sauce
That's just a random unrelated final quick thought
Just a little more bravado, if you got the bravado in you, you know?
Got the bravado, woo
This an elevated train of thought
On the internet, that's where I left my brain to rot
My attention span is eh, well, that explains a lot
How do I phrase it? Guns blazin', boy, I came in hot
Check the Fahrenheit, I'm usin' up a terabyte of space inside my mind
When I get mentally prepared to write
I've got an electrician here to repair the lights
'Cause I've been blackin' out so much it's now an issue
Proof the boy's a fiend
I keep a list inside my wallet of the people that attempted to destroy my dreams
Drink LaCroix and clean the living room, avoid the screens
When I was young, I used to wanna skate for Toy Machine
Or Birdhouse, but it turns out
My grind was better spent on tracks gettin' these words out
The word's out
I'm at the pub on my third stout
Burnt out but still never heard of the word doubt
I'm pushin' through
My main job is to find beats
And share a little knowledge helpin' others to find peace
The time sheet's filled with endless hours and fine tweaks
Since I was on a yellow school bus with assigned seats, I studied rap
That's no exaggeration
A lot of people think the way I do but somewhere down the road lost their imagination
I'm here to help 'em rediscover it, rekindle it, recover it
I know you had the flame until they smothered it
Tell Spotify to give me a raise, those stream payouts barely minimum wage
Locked in, I really live in my cave
Had an epiphany in 2021 around the time that I wrote Digging My Grave
I'm still diggin' my ways through this industry
The stress is showin' visibly
My hair's startin' to fill in with greys, but fuck it
Age graceful, stay grateful
Messed around, made a ton of mistakes
But still I ain't shameful
I want designer, then I saw how much that shit cost
Fuck it, let's just hit Ross, at least we won't get ripped off, right?
Beat the pussy up. I hit it with a hip toss
I'm such a catch she probably wish the rubber slipped off, uh
Keep it movin' if I'm picked off
Cookin' Polish stew, the one that got the thick sauce
That's just a random unrelated final quick thought
Writer(s): Unknown Name Unknown Name, Jerry Zajac
