CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Wishing Bad
No clocks
They break you you don't break rocks
Watch Yourself rot in a box
Dirt in ya nostrils Worms all in ya thoughts
A thousand plateaus A constellation of prisons
An ocean of archipelagos an algorithm
Apply Pressure to achieve desired results
Voices in the ventilation float different
Foucault call collect
Sound like long distance
The jack keep clipping and clipping
The rack keep clicking and clicking
Can't speak freely so we both just listen
Bad Wishin'
You don't have to do a thing the machine
Grind till it glisten keep time till it's finished
Up late sipping re-read old kites
Faded pencil, handwritten
Re-relive those nights chest tight
I'm Trippin
Use to be they bail you out for lyching
Now it's Chinese Boxes you disappear in the system
Ad Seg, hospital corners on the bed poured cement
Woke up, poured gin, Navy strength
Lord Jim, the wave big as sh*t
Poor kid, the natives put ya head on a stick
Stowaway in the back of the cat
Biggie bled
All the clocks (in) Brooklyn went cold the night
Than manifest
No one on Church Ave made a sound until it came correct
A pound of flesh was needed to scale
What time to pay respect...
They break you you don't break rocks
Watch Yourself rot in a box
Dirt in ya nostrils Worms all in ya thoughts
A thousand plateaus A constellation of prisons
An ocean of archipelagos an algorithm
Apply Pressure to achieve desired results
Voices in the ventilation float different
Foucault call collect
Sound like long distance
The jack keep clipping and clipping
The rack keep clicking and clicking
Can't speak freely so we both just listen
Bad Wishin'
You don't have to do a thing the machine
Grind till it glisten keep time till it's finished
Up late sipping re-read old kites
Faded pencil, handwritten
Re-relive those nights chest tight
I'm Trippin
Use to be they bail you out for lyching
Now it's Chinese Boxes you disappear in the system
Ad Seg, hospital corners on the bed poured cement
Woke up, poured gin, Navy strength
Lord Jim, the wave big as sh*t
Poor kid, the natives put ya head on a stick
Stowaway in the back of the cat
Biggie bled
All the clocks (in) Brooklyn went cold the night
Than manifest
No one on Church Ave made a sound until it came correct
A pound of flesh was needed to scale
What time to pay respect...
