Clipping - Inside Out Lyrics
[Verse 1: Daveed Diggs]Wa-lah!Pullin' rabbit food out of parkerCarrots catch the light right, up the block from the farmerHe got that lettuce, that cabbage, that broccoliTryin' to catch a fireLocks like MarleyThat Chevy frame rattling like a Caribbean roof-top in the rain, and the window panes wiggle following suitAnd the black suites sell bean pies, and the cream suites shout soap boxAnd the lime-green suites send angles to the streets with botox (Shh)Don't talkCuz there's rollers in the corner (whoop! )Football on the blacktopLittle C rush the quarterFive alligator, six alligator, seven alligator, car!Game on, till the street lights came onCrowd out by the Save-OnPaper bags 'round tall cans, talkin' that old manishness like"Man, when I was 22 I woulda coulda used to be the shit!"Or the high-waisted bikini model standeeTwo eleven in penny candy[Hook]It's a storm comin'Everybody insideIt's a war comin'Stack your bread, get highGotta pour somethin'Out for the homiesTurn that beat upGet loadedIt's a murder on the outside, everybody insideMurder on the outside, everybody insideMurder on the outside, everybody insideInside out now, lock n' load, lets ride[Verse 2]Donald Duck, Sunny D, Tampico, Capri-SunOrange couch, plastic wrap, what's happening re-runOak frame hologram Jesus portraitBrown shag carpet, broken screen door to the back porchTykes in the toilet gurgle every six minutes like clock-workGrandfather's clock not workingGreat grandmama's Crock Pot chocked full of stew meat'Who, me?' said a speech bubble on a dog on a Sunday morning comicClipped and stuck up to the fridge with big chip bag magnetBig chips stacked in the armoireBehind glass, where the dominoes and the Bicycle cards areAnd the thick, yellow and crystal tumblersOne sits on the tableWith a single ice cube melting into a thimble full of Jack DanielsThe telephone receiver hangsSwingin' by the cordAnd the front door is swingin'Wide open, accordinglyAnd that big block engine turnin' over in the CapriceThat's peelin' out of the driveway, lettin' the tires schreech[Hook][Verse 3]Orange cones and yellow tapePalm trees swayin', passers by all look the other wayNobody speak to police this or any other dayThey comb the streets, knock door to door asking for mother's sakeTrying to catch another breakBody on the pavement 'bout 10 steps from the front porchPhotographer snappin' pics to go with the coroners reportOf the seven exit wounds, three in the skull four in the torsoBlood spread dry, red black red snapback even more soLays three paces to the southThe direction of the windNew deputy pissed picking up shell casings againFinds one in the browning grass by the sagging four foot high chain link fenceDrops it in a bag marked 'Evidence'Here come that Caprice againRolling too slow up the street men sit four deep inThey seats and slow up by the scene, bandanas hide they facesBut all they heads are shakin'They nod in unison and hit the coroner without breakin'[Hook]
