Up The Middle

Album cover art for "Up The Middle" by Buck 65

Buck 65 - Pop

Up The Middle

2 Plays

Duration: 2:04

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Lyrics

Yeah coming through from the 902 Pop the line it's buck 65 Full blown combinating with johnney rockwell and the Centaur Double dipped Yo, right about this time next year Certain others digging up bones [Verse 1] Got a flat chest and head like a rat's nest Not to mention that I'm harder than a math test Leave you lying face down naked from the waist down After that I'll go back and burn your place down I'll take cheese outta you handy snack Then I'll call your granny back Gotta a great big of cash in my fanny pack A flat bus broken The angel dust smoking Man with hand cuffs on Just joking I describe myself as half decent sax player Amateur coin collector, John Q tax player Shy around girls with my face all scarred The only thing in my wallet is a baseball card I live in the city but miss farming life All i need to survive is my Swiss army knife The story of my childhood is bad luck and crises Born in the year of the rat and I'm a Pisces Which makes me a rat fish So, I'm gonna soon need someone to tie my shoes and spoon feed me Can't wait till the day when i ride round in rocket cars Wear short sleeve shirts and all I eat is chocolate bars Take my place for granted and assume the position On top of the heap because soon the tradition of Winning the game of one swinging the bat Will forever be a thing of the past If I be myself I'll be by myself But I don't wanna be remembered by the way I've been rendered If I be myself I'll be by myself But I don't wanna be remembered by the way I've been rendered No I don't, no No I don't, no No I don't, no No I don't, no No I don't, no No I don't, no No I don't, no No I don't, no [Verse 2] They keep me cooped up in this hot sweaty cage With a worn out mattress and a poster of Betty Page And I'm supposed to write the great American love story Why don't they sound trumpets and release flocks of doves for me I've got to be particular about how my career is handled Before I record, I should go and get my ears candled I'd like a glass of water and a box of facial tissue Doing what I do has never really been a racial issue Someday soon though I'm gonna have to settle down Before my bones start making that metal-on-metal sound The difference between me and other people is the greased palms I was never one to hold my breath when I released bombs It's possible that i could be huge but I doubt it "Cuz my phone's off the hook but that's about it Handling my biz I should really do a shipment And try and make some money to buy some new equipment With a brand-new mic and a room with insulation Coloured pencils all I need is inspiration Which brings me back to this hot and sweaty cage The worn-out mattress and the poster of Betty Page I look at people look at me, how am I supposed to feel? Showing a picture that isn't even close to real The final approach is upon me, I can feel it I might call this song I was right all along Or I might call this song I've never had stitches Or I might call it Mr. Know-It-All Or don't forget the chaos Or two sizes too big The hydro-twist The scene river Creative differences No time to lose Or Beasts? Pieces?

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