| It’s easy, life every day
|
| Knife up to my neck with two days left to pay
|
| Shit’s all good. |
| Throw me some love, props
|
| My wife found that hooker’s panties in my fuckin' glove box
|
| Shit’s feel nice, on top of my game
|
| I’m out of last chances, got warrants all on my name
|
| I’m happy, I’m straight on track, right
|
| You got it shootin' heroin, but got off to crack, right
|
| I’m doin' really well these days
|
| (Oh the paranoia hasn’t beat it)
|
| I’m doin' really well these days
|
| (The entire sickness, I defeat it)
|
| I’m doin' really well these days
|
| (Oh the paranoia hasn’t beat it)
|
| I’m doin' really well these days
|
| (The entire sickness, I defeat it)
|
| My future lookin' bright as the sun
|
| Four separate entities all trying to kill me at once
|
| Good times, though, these days are all good
|
| They cut my homie’s head off and stuck it on my car hood
|
| (La la la la)
|
| I love it, so give me more of it, the pressure
|
| I love it, so give me more of it. |
| Can’t get around
|
| Or above it, so give me more, and I get to bum rush
|
| Blood gush, ants crush, spontaneous combust!
|
| I love it, so give me more of it, the pressure
|
| I love it, so give me more of it. |
| Can’t get around
|
| Or above it, so give me more, and I get to bum rush
|
| Blood gush, ants crush, spontaneous combust!
|
| A face, though no one knows its me, and yet it helps them notice me
|
| Cops don’t even need a print, they just toss me in and throw the key
|
| These times all as good as can be
|
| Cops don’t even need a print, they just toss me in and throw the key
|
| There’s a fuckin' vampire floating in my window stool
|
| Tell me, what the fuck does he want with my neck? |
| That ain’t cool
|
| Find some bitch’s neck, Lucy. |
| Don’t get stabbed with a steak
|
| And tell Frankenstein to fuck off, out there in a car waitin'
|
| «Mommy, who’s Daddy talkin' to?»
|
| (Oh the paranoia hasn’t beat it)
|
| I’m doin' really well these days
|
| (The entire sickness, I defeat it)
|
| «Who's, who’s, who’s Daddy talkin' to?»
|
| (Oh the paranoia hasn’t beat it)
|
| I’m doin' really well these days
|
| (The entire sickness, I defeat it)
|
| «Mommy?»
|
| Life is a walk in the park
|
| I seen my shadow get killed by another, ripped out its heart
|
| There’s no place I’d rather be
|
| Take me off this earth. |
| The whole world’s destroying me
|
| I love it, so give me more of it, the pressure
|
| I love it, so give me more of it. |
| Can’t get around
|
| Or above it, so give me more, and I get to bum rush
|
| Blood gush, ants crush, spontaneous combust!
|
| I love it, so give me more of it, the pressure
|
| I love it, so give me more of it. |
| Can’t get around
|
| Or above it, so give me more, and I get to bum rush
|
| Blood gush, ants crush, spontaneous combust!
|
| I walked in, grabbed a pop, and took off my jeans and stretched out
|
| Then it hit me: this ain’t my house
|
| But I was so tired, so wired, so expired
|
| That I decided to borrow and admire
|
| But I woke up with a rifle’s barrel all up in my nostril
|
| The cops came, dropped me off at the hospital
|
| Get me a shot of spazmatic relief
|
| They needed surgery to remove an arm from my teeth
|
| But I’m doin' really well these days
|
| (Oh the paranoia hasn’t beat it)
|
| I’m doin' really well these days
|
| (The entire sickness, I defeat it)
|
| I’m doin' really well these days
|
| (Oh the paranoia hasn’t beat it)
|
| I’m doin' really well these days!
|
| I’m okay. |
| No problem’s here
|
| If I get bloody enough, the sun will dry me up; |
| I’ll disappear
|
| Wonderful, my life is grand
|
| I love it when my head explode again and again
|
| I love it, so give me more of it, the pressure
|
| I love it, so give me more of it. |
| Can’t get around
|
| Or above it, so give me more, and I get to bum rush
|
| Blood gush, ants crush, spontaneous combust!
|
| I love it, so give me more of it, the pressure
|
| I love it, so give me more of it. |
| Can’t get around
|
| Or above it, so give me more, and I get to bum rush
|
| Blood gush, ants crush, spontaneous combust!
|
| A throbbin' headache comes right up through your heels
|
| Up through the hip bone, the knee bone, up the spine
|
| Up through your back, through your head
|
| Like Satan was? |
| «Exactly»
|
| Do you believe? |
| «I believe»
|
| He believes! |
| *applause* Hallelujah!
|
| Oh, Amen! |
| God bless! |
| Amen! |
| Hallelujah
|
| Rid this man of these headache demons
|
| Of these migraine demons
|
| Heal this man! |
| Oh…
|
| And I just want you to shoot him up
|
| Jesus on — ‘n line. |
| Pshhhew
|
| Tell him what you want |