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from DarkRoomSessions by Stig Of The Dump
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The Dark Room Sessions bootlegs
Beat: The Alchemist - Rubber Bands & Weight
Beat: The Alchemist - Rubber Bands & Weight
lyrics
Weathering the storm true to form.
Still waiting for it all to fall down.
I swear these birds only love you when you're up.
Paranoid, box of something buried underground.
Shit, this is what it is then?
Big bag of something, stinking like the bin men.
I been at my whits end.
Now I got my head up in the clouds.
Wow.
Pot full of pills of Psilocybin.
Picturing my dad like I was sitting right beside him.
Upfront, fuck it young'un, I'm too big for hiding.
Working out the tip, while these slow cunts are still deciding.
Time is money.
And I'm always short of both it ain't a joke.
I bang out classic after classic like I'm Hall and Oates.
Smoking piff with hints of something citrusy with floral notes,
Tryna board the boat to somewhere sunny til that's all she wrote.
Good with numbers like I'm Vorderman.
Still i've lost count of all these laws I broke.
Dab the diamonds with the terp sauce.
Shit i can't afford to smoke-
I guess they outta know why I'm so high I might be talking slow.
Throw another log onto the burner.
Tell ya man to take the number for the burner.
Maple glaze the bacon, grill the gouda for the burger.
Hit 130s on the clock but I'm still trying to push it further.
Stories that we tell ourselves, uploaded to the server.
The underdog that won.
The glory of the common worker
Leave me round ya bird too long, I'll only try & chirps her.
Something something simply the Best....
Tina Turner.
Earn a wedge and bop,
Tyna circumvent the crop.
I split the top then prune the fan leaves, water in the pot.
Built for winter, holidaying somewhere hot.
I built the lot.
Just another couple zoots and then I'll stop.
Fucking What?
Mate, look who went and came up.
No more food bank stamps, looking like a lame duck.
Dab the butter
Add a splash of colour to these beige fucks.
Light the sage,
See me talking wisdom like I'm twice my age.
Shit is real.
But I'm really tryna fight the rage.
Dipping the till.
Police told me that I fit the bill.
Sit & chill.
Get locked inside a cage for bud
But taxed to fuck for shit that kills.
Now, don't that seem wrong?
Nah, I don't know what it's called
But swear to god this shit is strong.
If everybody's eating, everybody gets along.
You only get one go and then ya gone.
It's all game, I sit and pour the pain into the song.
They ain't been to where i'm goin, cos they ain't come from where I'm from.
Spark the blunt of pure chong.
Stinking like Yves Sanit Lauren Pour Homme.
Coughing.
Watching while she's modeling her thong,
Waddling along with nothing on.
While I'm tryna work out where the fuck she got that body from.
We smoked then got it on.
It's nothing long.
Light the bowl, blow out the smoke and hit the gong
Cos I'm a DON.
One long loop,thick clouds.
with a Wanton soup and a Tsingtao,
Sitting stoned in the sticks, in a big house.
In a pit of snakes- burning too many spliffs down.
Swear, they move like a moth to the flame.
It's insane, anything to bury that pain.
Booze, pills, sex, money or the fame
or cocaine, it's all the same, when you understand the game
Anything to bury that Pain.
Still waiting for it all to fall down.
I swear these birds only love you when you're up.
Paranoid, box of something buried underground.
Shit, this is what it is then?
Big bag of something, stinking like the bin men.
I been at my whits end.
Now I got my head up in the clouds.
Wow.
Pot full of pills of Psilocybin.
Picturing my dad like I was sitting right beside him.
Upfront, fuck it young'un, I'm too big for hiding.
Working out the tip, while these slow cunts are still deciding.
Time is money.
And I'm always short of both it ain't a joke.
I bang out classic after classic like I'm Hall and Oates.
Smoking piff with hints of something citrusy with floral notes,
Tryna board the boat to somewhere sunny til that's all she wrote.
Good with numbers like I'm Vorderman.
Still i've lost count of all these laws I broke.
Dab the diamonds with the terp sauce.
Shit i can't afford to smoke-
I guess they outta know why I'm so high I might be talking slow.
Throw another log onto the burner.
Tell ya man to take the number for the burner.
Maple glaze the bacon, grill the gouda for the burger.
Hit 130s on the clock but I'm still trying to push it further.
Stories that we tell ourselves, uploaded to the server.
The underdog that won.
The glory of the common worker
Leave me round ya bird too long, I'll only try & chirps her.
Something something simply the Best....
Tina Turner.
Earn a wedge and bop,
Tyna circumvent the crop.
I split the top then prune the fan leaves, water in the pot.
Built for winter, holidaying somewhere hot.
I built the lot.
Just another couple zoots and then I'll stop.
Fucking What?
Mate, look who went and came up.
No more food bank stamps, looking like a lame duck.
Dab the butter
Add a splash of colour to these beige fucks.
Light the sage,
See me talking wisdom like I'm twice my age.
Shit is real.
But I'm really tryna fight the rage.
Dipping the till.
Police told me that I fit the bill.
Sit & chill.
Get locked inside a cage for bud
But taxed to fuck for shit that kills.
Now, don't that seem wrong?
Nah, I don't know what it's called
But swear to god this shit is strong.
If everybody's eating, everybody gets along.
You only get one go and then ya gone.
It's all game, I sit and pour the pain into the song.
They ain't been to where i'm goin, cos they ain't come from where I'm from.
Spark the blunt of pure chong.
Stinking like Yves Sanit Lauren Pour Homme.
Coughing.
Watching while she's modeling her thong,
Waddling along with nothing on.
While I'm tryna work out where the fuck she got that body from.
We smoked then got it on.
It's nothing long.
Light the bowl, blow out the smoke and hit the gong
Cos I'm a DON.
One long loop,thick clouds.
with a Wanton soup and a Tsingtao,
Sitting stoned in the sticks, in a big house.
In a pit of snakes- burning too many spliffs down.
Swear, they move like a moth to the flame.
It's insane, anything to bury that pain.
Booze, pills, sex, money or the fame
or cocaine, it's all the same, when you understand the game
Anything to bury that Pain.
credits
from DarkRoomSessions,
released July 8, 2021
license
all rights reserved
tags
about
Stig Of The Dump London
Solid
Gold
Unicorn
In
Human
Form.
discography
-
Sep 2022 -
Jul 2021 -
Dec 2019 -
Jul 2018
contact / help
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