Lyrics
this is just my crib, yo
where I get away from home,
where I bury dirt i hold,
finally put in it's tomb,
this is just my crib, yo,
so, dig me to my crib, yo,
lift me to my crib, yo,
just get me to my crib, yo
and let me be alone.
Do I have a crib,
anyone here want to make a bid,
you buy for less than tip and its a give,
so live live live,
in the house of this kid,
in the house of pain bitch,
thats where i get my lift,
thats where shit makes a rift between shit and true pissed off bits of business, never finished, just diminished then replenished relatonships falling into pits, yea, i wish, somewhere down the line the line was missed,
the dream of peaceful bliss was scrapped for fits without profits, problems with fists, damn, too late to quit,
so this is my home, alone, a square topped with a cone, this is it, where I sit in my zone, making these tones to politics and moderate morderness modulate motifs of mass madness modify masked malice mashed out lyrics with no more spyrit than a pet rock but just as endearing,
when my place is appealing, I run away, looks familiar and leering, the sight's seering, deteriorating the whole being of little Ian.
this is just my crib, yo
where I get away from home,
where I bury dirt i hold,
finally put in it's tomb,
this is just my crib, yo,
so, dig me to my crib, yo,
lift me to my crib, yo,
just get me to my crib, yo
and let me be alone.
All alone like I said, way too easy,
cold to the bone freezing when breezy,
busy to me to see others who believe in E,
relieved when I just sing on key not very likely,
very few of you like me, most are just siking to get to my crib nightly,
I don't need to go sightsee to know the red sea ain't red, I ain't a dummy,
Just looking for someone to love me,
hell, even settle for someone to hug me, politely
instead of shove me, precicely
like dear mommy no longer trusts me,
thinks I'm on drugs or a punk truthfully and mentally I tally up times she's said to me, so far over 30, so much over hurting,
so much for me smirking, ill settle for lurking around downstairs at my pad just murking around all damn day, so mad, cus shit is so bad and nothings working,
when everyone acts so lax and erking I'm taxed to shirking away from any hopes of backing
this is just my crib, yo
where I get away from home,
where I bury dirt i hold,
finally put in it's tomb,
this is just my crib, yo,
so, dig me to my crib, yo,
lift me to my crib, yo,
just get me to my crib, yo
and let me be alone.
So in other words its my basement,
my place that I can go when I need to do some pacing,
go through the faces in my head and race against thier changes,
if I need to, even do some erasing.
this is where i get encased in embracing replacing disgrace and finally find some space for breathing,
half the time by the time i get there im halfway weazing,
half the time I'm halfway away from leaving all appeals in the outside world just for this reason, percievings easier when your left alone and heaving, always less grieving when your on the phone recieving the news than when your weaving these blues, meaning trying to sooth, concieving how to relieve these dues, so obtuse, so go recluse, hide away, yo ain't a chicken just acting like a pre-warned jew, during world war two, this ii the holocost between me and you and cost can't be paid back on through, so now, where do I live you choose, whatever answer you give, i'll lose.
