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| Everlast Whitey Ford Sings The Blues Painkillers Flight Attendant: On behalf of Pan Am Airlines, we'd like to be the first To welcome you to New York City. We'd like to thank you for flying Pan Am. The local time is 6:45AM and the temperature is 89°... I've been up all night On the redeye flight The dawn's early light Got the skyline bright I'm in the back of a car service My driver's kind of nervous 'Cause I'm tokin' on a blunt that's fat You say you know where you at I say I know where I am And if you really want a tip Then Mr. don't get flam I ain't tryin' to be rude And I ain't stressin' you gramps But this shit right here It be the breakfast of champs I've been tokin' on this since thirteen years old And when I look up at my wall I see platinum and gold And there ain't nobody sneezin' at the money I fold And I ain't here for your pleasin' So put that shit on hold Just keep your mouth shut and get me to the hotel And turn the radio up while I finish this L... Welcome back to the Five Seasons Mr. Ford, your usual room is ready and waiting. Let me take your luggage. If you need anything while you're staying, just let me know. Good lookin' out...That's for you. I hop out my car Step into the lobby Everybody's on the floor (get down) It's a motherfuckin' robbery The shit's in progress I can feel the stress I wanna silenty to God how I get in this mess They tell me to freeze and get down on my knees Between my jewels and my cash I'm holdin' thirty five G's They told me to run it So I got bold and I front it And like Slick Rick said I know I shouldn't have done it 'Cause now they standin' over me Watchin' me bleed Damn, I got to quit smokin' all this weed There's a pain in my chest But yo, I must be blessed Because before I faded out I saw the EMS The paramedics They greet me with some anesthetics They killin' my pain They screamin' my name Tryin' to keep me in the conscious world I'm thinkin' about my mom My sister and my girl I'm prayin' to God Don't let this go too far As they rush me into the St. Luke's O.R. They pull the bullets out my chest And give 'em back in a jar Now I'm wearin' this scar 'Cause I tried to play hard Mr. Ford, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. What are you talkin' about ? It would appear that one of the bullets grazed your spine and damaged the cord. So what are you tryin' to tell me ? Well, it's safe to say I don't think you'll be jumpin' around anymore. Yo, this can't happen to me I just can't believe it Trapped in a wheelchair A paraplegic There ain't no rehab There ain't no therapy For the rest of my life Somebody's gotta take care of me And people stare at me With pity in their eyes And every mornin' I rise to a life of despise And ever night I think I might never rock the mic again 'Cause my brain's fucked up on percacet and vicadin Might as well be heroin pulsin' through my veins Gotta kill these pains Or blow out my brains To free me from these chains I'm trapped in this physical hell To walk again I just might sell my soul And I'm only twenty somethin' years old (years old) |
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