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letra de roses - sickly rats

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[verse: sickly sid]
yo, did you hear my new cd?
is that my music in the backseat?
what, you didn’t like it? well please don’t tell the record company
they won’t wanna hear that one, no, it’ll bum them out
or in other words; i’m screwed, the elevator’s going down
one day my music’s great, but the next, i’m on my ass
do everything they say or your face is meeting the grass
get called for a meeting, everything’s nice, here’s a bouquet
they tell you it’s time for you to do 3 shows in a single day
what? now i gotta fly to j-pan, play a show thе same day, that’s the plan
“disobey us and wе’ll degrade you to being our hotel’s doorman”
sh-t, now i really gotta clean my act up
and this probably won’t even affect my markup
play 3 shows — a festival, a backyard and one with a coffee cup
f-ck, i’m panicking, i’m freaking out
i’m already onstage and there’s people leaving now
hopefully this bust of a set gets no publicity
“bzzzzt, your phone’s ringing!” trigger my spasticity
“your record isn’t #1, we’re cutting off your electricity”
“are you f-cking kidding me??” as i say all the way in italy
come back, they’re looking at me like i’m black b-st-rds, with villainy
“did you not expect us to see what you said about us on album 3?!”
this sh-t’s been going on too long, not gon’ be a slave just for a catchy song
“well, according to this contract, we can rip your heart out all along!”
storm out of their offices, catch a cab for a safe place
go home, find out that they’ve put microphones in my staircase
oh my god, what have they heard and what have they not?!
i bet if i ever end up back there, i’ll be posing for my mugshot
“is this the home of sickly sid?” well, i’m sh-t out of luck
my final words are — don’t ever sign a contract from a schmuck
[hook]
a d-ckish pr-ck b-tters you up, he likes your sick tunes
he’s got ulterior motives and he expects you not to notice
don’t ever shake a f-cker’s hand, they want to own you
they bout to put a price on your soul, don’t take his roses

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