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Lyricist: Atmosphere
| Song: | Sad Clown |  
| Album: |  | Genres: |  |  
| Year: |  | Length: | 0 sec |  Lyrics: 
 Uh, You got a bag full of paint, a head full of brainNo snow, no rain, ain't got no complaint
 Like you high on that Krylon runnin' through your veins
 You look like a war vet starin' at them trains
 It's like you zenned the fuck out
 Sittin' in the bushes, lettin' all the bugs out
 One smoke, one beer, when the coast is clear
 You disappear into your zone, stoned on the fear
 Lookin' at scarred box cars
 Focus in and notice one of the ones most fit
 It's like that one there, has got your name all over it
 So that one there, is gettin' your name all over it
 Pull a can of sky blue for the outline
 Sky for the limits, blue for the down time
 Nerves at blast, disturbin' the masses of rats with these thin tips and fat caps
 Thinkin' 'bout your little brother
 'Cause he been tryna hit the yard with you all summer
 It's a good thing that you didn't bring him along
 'Cause that's when you saw the flashlights singing this song like
 Run, run, run these yards
 Run, run, don't get caught
 Run, run, every piece understood
 (I wanna tell 'em you were good on the foot, now)
 Run, run, run these yards
 Run, run, don't get caught
 Run, run, every piece understood
 (Better believe you ran as fast as you could)
 It wasn't fast enough, a simple catch
 Cornered in the parking lot, hidin' in the trash
 You heard the footsteps, heart beatin' hard
 Are you gonna have to fight with a trainyard guard?
 You stepped out on some 'yup, let's start this'
 Puffin' out your chest like you wasn't in the garbage
 And that's when the universe stopped for ya
 Now ya lookin' straight at a uniformed officer
 What you think, should you run, run
 And take a chance at gettin' some from his stun gun
 That ain't one on one, plus he look kinda young
 The type that might beat your ass just for fun, huh
 So tell me what the fuck are you supposed to do
 Already thinkin' about the cuffs holdin' you
 Already got a few cases over you
 But then the police man says 'no, it's cool'
 What, where's the punch line? Can't call it
 Too many paint fumes, must've lost it
 He handed you your bag and said 'Here, I think you dropped this'
 'Cause this cop grew up on hip hop (got it)
 Run, run, run these yards
 Run, run, don't get caught
 Run, run, every piece understood
 (It all depends on where the pieces are put)
 Run, run, run these yards
 Run, run, don't get caught
 Run, run, every piece understood
 (Now do your thing and make the neighborhood look good)
 
 
		
		
	
 
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