Worlds to Run
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Verse 1: milo
This slack-jaw mealy-mouthI mumble when I'm 'round the houseI'm trying not to do no chores todayCrying in my underwearI lost my sense of wonder thereNo, I'm not Milan KunderaThough this lightness is unbearableThe feeling is indelibleI'm wishing I could teleport somewhereTransmolecularize through the secular eyeI remember when Vegeta stomped Bardock's neck inTwo prayer hands to the heavens, good Lord, bless HimI was a broke slob watching Ghost Dog writing Post HocIf I could muster just one good throat chopAnd honor my shidoshi, 'cause 'dim mak' means 'death touch'I been Spock, I been clutchIn thin socks, I'm butthurtImpervious pervert with niggaish fervourCrashing Linux serverWho didn't even change his laundry overWho needs to buy toilet paperIndie rapper, sorta faker'Cause I couldn't afford a mortgage or a Studebaker'Cause I couldn't afford a mortgage or a StudebakerChorus: Anderson .Paak
When you're deep in the rawEverybody wants to get a piece of your heartThere's only so much truth you can keep in your vaultSpeak your piece, but words are too harshPost-Chorus: Busdriver, Anderson .Paak & Both
(Hold my, hold my, hold my piece, yeah)Uh, overspoke my pieceNow I'm known in the streets(I hope I don't break, ayy)When you're deep in the rawThere's only so much truth you can keep in your jawSo, what you saying? (Ooh)I can run the world from my mama's house (Ayy, yeah)I can run the world from my mama's houseI can run the world from my mama's houseI can run the worldWhen you're deep in the raw (Yeah)There's only so much truth you can keep in your jaw'Til it bleeds through the wallWhen you're deep in the rawVerse 2: Busdriver
Every song responds to a threatEvery laundered dollar is wetBut I've met moms like a song torn breathI've met moms that can ponder the depthAnd the kings sorta stink of lunacyMy roller rink's in sync with the jinx that are having me sink the moon and the seaBankers clink drinks of the uplink to the sphinx's cooneryI'm on the brink, I could fill my sink with the king's jewelryYeah, who is he? Driver, lion from a dead worldSole practitioner of his customs and know the RPM of your head twirlDriver old as fuckMy daughter old enough to voteRap songs blowing up on the coastLoyal subjects rolling up that smokeAs I dictate terms from an ensnarled perchYeah, and Leimert Park is Winterfell, but it's ruinsI learned to split a cell and pitch a sale from Mike's CitadelExact an explicit HellEmpty the fire its wayMy music on Pirate's BayAs my elusive alliances fray, I collude with a silent clayAnd effuse a vibrant day with a soothing eye in decayPutting food on the dining trayYeah, I can do this my wayWelcome homeChorus: Anderson .Paak
When you're deep in the rawEverybody wants to get a piece of your heartThere's only so much truth you can keep in your vaultSpeak your piece, but words are too harshBridge: Busdriver
When I was a younger manI could feel the entire worldBut now that I'm olderPost-Chorus: Busdriver, Anderson .Paak & Both
When you're deep in the rawThere's only so much truth you can keep in your jawSo, what you saying? (Ooh)I can run the world from my mama's house (Ayy, yeah)I can run the world from my mama's houseI can run the world from my mama's houseI can run the worldLearn a word
slack-jaw mealy-mouth — mumbling, indistinct speech
describes someone speaking unclearly or without conviction