adonis lucente. - Thunderbird Lyrics

Tilt the car-seats, let the drums speak
Freely as an ace whipping omelettes the concrete
I never mob deep, been known to wreak havoc
Split leather at the seams like Lenny Kravitz
No tags, but the man syphoned all the steam
So sad, the birth of a new improved machine
My bad, I'll bust my chops for the right price
Mini-moog synths and some chicken for my fried rice

Desensitized like a roman wipe
I will not bow to the bureaucratic archetypes
The rack of empty suits
Billy Walsh inside the head
Skinning for a finer coat and
Making sure my friends are fed

Empty closet but the pockets swollen
She said, f*ck a 65 better rip it like it's stolen
Feet on the dashboard, Brodie off the backboard
If you wanna lick the sky, I better see a passport

Dirty rims in the cloud of smoke that I surround
Enough paper in the pipes to bring her back around
Brokered by a new sound
Found my soul in Motown, with each pound I broke ground and, drew blood like a bad hound
The hue less blue was hit-or-miss
Now you could dream and never see a beam as bright as this
So best be ready when I alley-oop my last assist,
And throw it down like Dennis Rodman out in '96, out in 96

This is butter in a broken pot
The finer print really hit the spot

We all dreamt of californiacation
But 50k for a feature presentation, nah

Hit a B-Line soon as I can
Book a first class ticket to south of Japan
Maybe drop enough dimes to date Amanda McCants
But until then baby I'm a flash in the pan

Superbad behavior, youth in revolt blowing o's inside the simulator
All for pens and pads and papers, cold jäeger, and the highest score recorded in a Tony Hawk pro skater

Offbeat cues, hysterics on the news, swinging for the fences with nothing left prove
Uptown views, short a couple screws, sold myself stupid for Balenciaga shoes (shoes)
Put some shimmer in my pockets, Johnnys Red Rocket, oh stop it don't knock it
Pull it back cock it
Besos to the best friends
Fingers for loose ends
Stupid soulless too dim
Rabblerouser, that's him

Dirty rims in cloud of smoke that I surround
Enough paper in the pipes bring her back around
Brokered by a new sound
Found my soul in Motown, with each pound I broke ground and, drew blood like a bad hound
The hue less blue was hit-or-miss
Now you could dream and never see a beam as bright as this
So best be ready when I alley-oop my last assist
And throw it down like Dennis Rodman out in '96, out in 96