Boat Shoes

(álbum: Yacht Rock 2 - 2019)

(Doing it big, 'bout to go out there on the water (Ya heard me?)
Let's roll out
Talking 'bout, when I'm gonna raise the sails? (Hoist that bitch)
Man, I'm 'bout to start balling, for real
My vacation 'bout to start, I can't post none of this shit
It's too much balling...)

Uh, pull the Lamborghini machines up on the double
I'll make a youngin pull his jeans up
Tuck in his shirt and get 'em cleaned up (C'mere, c'mere)
Fold the crease in his chinos and have 'em steamed up
I was solo then I teamed up (What up?)
Now I'm pushing buttons like Scotty when beamed up
The unidentified flying object defying logic
I'll ride a pocket 'til my body rotten
More gone and forgotten, so many sons I put a couple up for adoption
'Til then for me to stop is not an option
Spilling the clicker on the yacht while it was docking
Caught me slipping with no socks, in my moccasins
I'm like your favorite fruit when it's in season, I been sneezing
Roll down the tint, I need my skin to the wind breezing
I need to feel the sun on my sking beaming
Drowning my thoughts, scratching the whiskers on my chin region

(...gets mad or over-dramatic, it's shitty
You're drinking when you're writing?)

I never said I came to re-invent the wheel
But I don't roll with the squares, it's blocking out a nigga skill
Posted in my pajamas in my Hugh Hef
Paving the way, see, I can show y'all a new step
Or take it to the head like Russian Roulette and gamble thoughts
The cost crossed 'em off and thrown like a lacrosse toss
Shit, I'm slumped on the throne like a drunken boss
Sitting on the wave still, supplier's an albatross
I need space like astronauts
Astronomically high, watching the stars crash a lot
I'm a doctor, but I'm not Cliff Huxtable
I got a sandwich and my feet up on the couch, I'm comfortable
There's no sacks in the hush, I get it plush
Crush your luck, bag it up just to feel the rush
Now that's a bad jewelry heist, the way I'm dropping gems
Zeitgeist trim, precise, my advice is win (C'mon)
I need to feel the light breeze from the slightest wind
The gang's 'bout to light 'em again (Go and let 'em in), yeah
Go on, let 'em in

(We know the air is unfit to breathe
Our food is unfit to eat
We sit watching our TVs while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes
As if that's the way it's supposed to be
We know things are bad, worse than bad, they're crazy
It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out anymore
We sit in the house
And slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller
And all we say is
"Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms
Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials")

No storm can last forever...
Which is very unusual...