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letra de 4 da shammies - jet thuman

when i walk streets and i’m feeling nomadic
i talk and i meet a variety of addicts
and if they had no addiction before
they got one once they met this walking drug store
i’ll be sparking up more of the trees i can find
and the blunts that i roll appeases my mind
am i falling under a fix of my own?
i wonder if i’d be as happy at home
but home is where the heart is, or that’s what i heard
so i’m living in my chest, it’s where my brain and beat merge
fear staining my neat nerves wear upon my lithe words
making me stumble like rain makes sleet swerve
pain plus a meek curse equals a sweet nerd
that can’t lie and cuts lines for some sweet curves
this cool guy can’t tell time just let the week serve
as an indicator of what’s been happening
worrying later about missing out on action
while relying on the bags and bowls i was packing
anxiety is stacking, excitement never lacking
looking back fondly on the swag i was racking:
clothing, food and cerveza for the jacking
only thing dude made a mess of was macking;
ladies don’t really f-ck with dirty skate rat kings
moving on to napping; sleeping in the gr-ss
didn’t have anywhere to lay my head or my -ss
huddled under stairs or on the roof of a cl-ss
p-ssed out in a tent or lucky enough to crash
at pancho’s pad for a couple sleepovers
tortillas on the stove; making mexican stouffer’s
west coast street kid; some boston on the resume
market street gives awesome shows by the bay
while squatting on the roofs of commonwealth
can be great, i’d much rather knock out in your hallway
camping in the park with deadheads and city dregs
taught me how to start waking with the sun and welcoming the dark
asylum of the night, if and when i had to part
with party-going socialites after showing off my smarts
5150; soon i depart from a few adus
i screw up the charts, work the system, play the man;
confidence art. how could they ever understand
this kid’s only problem was becoming a man?
never bothered with a plan, cuz the gods laugh at em
always skated, never ran, into a few odd madames
i bumped and we chilled. never could pay a bill
but if the girlies are digging ya, then you prolly kept it real
tell me how you feel, and i’ll ask what you think
answer: between your brows. show me your past; don’t blink

- jet thuman

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