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Watsky - Breakbeat Lyrics

Breakbeat
Life's a bitch
Sad violinists when I sold their violas
Pissed like a hippie when you stole their granola
In the desert looking for a cold cherry cola
Life's hard like a cold areola
My thoughts tend to do hand grenade harm
I think, therefore I amputate arms
I'm not always a man with great charm
But I'll be there like the man from State Farm
I'm dedicated to getting better
Like meth-heads are dedicated to finding methods of getting faded
Defecated on microphones in every state in the land
So I better be scrubbing up before you're shaking my hand
I'm making a stand
Put me in a jam I hang tough
Scram when I break my handcuffs
And I will shake every snake every fake soft motherfuc*** off like flakes of dandruff
If they use my back as a staircase I get up in their face
And give em a rare taste
Of genuine bear mace
If you're in my airspace, I'm shootin' you down
If you think you're king I'm surgically removing your crown
I'm movin' around
Have some trouble choosin' a town
Cause when I move I never lose any ground
At any given moment it's hard to really tell
At what city I dwell
Find me in Philly bangin' my head on the Liberty bell
I tried but if you're looking far
You don't have to check where the rookies are
I work hard like a Wookiee barber
Luke Skywalker any naughty hand caught in a cookie jar
I don't know how many days before me
Gonna go out in a blaze of glory
Savor the phases, the crazy, the tame
And then tell an amazing story