Текст пісні DOT XXX - Watsky

DOT XXX

Better hit that damn drum, gotta keep the time
Better hit that damn drum, gotta keep the mind tickin'
In a mad life, chaotic and wicked
Dickin' around with sound, found religion
The rhythm giving neat division
To disarray, when not a nothing is clicking
But it’s okay, we cut the pandemonium up
To ticker-tape and strut in it
Does structure give us some significance?
Dust each coincidence off, you’ll find my fingerprints
Kidding, kidding, I’m a clown prince, not a visionary
Run the numbers, the drummer’s a mathematician
When shit’s gray like Dorian, drift my DeLorean
I’m a click away from the Bay to the Korean Peninsula
To Pennsylvania to the Philippines
On the scene gettin' mean on the philistines
You tend to bring the force when you got a brain
Hung like a horse and a tongue like a guillotine
I’m coming sharper than killer bee stingers
While I’m bringing you the illest soliloquy
If you really put your ear to this, then you will agree
What you’re really hearing is authentic ability
Feelin' me not required, it’s elective
Grow the fuck up, admit art’s subjective
What you can relate to and the perspective
And my perspective is that some folks defective
Now, now, don’t cry, there’s a lot of dumb guys
Think they’re on earth flat like a papadam
Papa don’t preach, but son gotta pop a Tums
If guts was cookies, these dudes got not a crumb
Yes, with success, I do got a modicum
Come properly, but I do have the thought of, um
Am I problematic or a problem on the mic?
Why not both? (Little meme shrug)
If you really sip the bean in my mean mug
You can see I’m a fiend for this drug
Culture vulture got that plug (Butt)
Whatever you think of it
I’m a product of the record industry syndicate
Go ahead, pretend we live inside of a vacuum
You’ll be covered in a bunch of itchy ass lint and shit
If I tell you that I’m humble, I’m Pinocchio
And if I’m navel-gazing when my nose’ll grow
That’s a ritual seppuku, so I’m sending you back to
Your regularly scheduled braggadocio
Do-si-do around the clowns, hit a little flex
Speaking in calligraphy while they’re in simple text
I got a riddle that’s hot off the griddle, keep all your
Heads on a swivel, I got the kibble to feed the internets
Ripple effects for every decision, my nipples erect
I get a new vision, but it intersects with
My shipwrecks from every mission I’ve been in
The ending is the beginning, so what if I hit the deck?
'Cause we’ll pop a corks if you saw us on tour
Come and sip the next brew if you want more
I’m not yet in the morgue, too hot to be a borg
Watsky might be dead, but you still got George
For a little sex for your intellects
Visit kisswatskysgluteusmaximus dot triple X