Atmosphere - Millenium Dodo 2 lyrics

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Atmosphere - Millenium Dodo 2 lyrics

[Verse 1: Slug] Never run of the mill when I shoot the pill I'm a son of a spill, I've got boots to fill Showed up with a deuce-deuce of swill And a guardian angel on my Coupe de Ville Shark in the lake, heart strike the drum Mark landscape with a dart-like tongue Spit my blood from deep in the gut Smoking cigarette bu*ts with my finger-less gloves Pull over at the welcome sign and raise a toast to those that fell behind Everybody else got a crippled spine From tryna' take it back to a simple time Keep a little pine tree, hang from my rear-view Beats turned up just enough not to hear you Gonna swim till the fins get torn I shall return, keep the engine warm [Hook] Millennium Dodo Pull out your telephone and take you a photo You didn't know? Better read the logo You don't wanna play around and get ocho Recline like I don't care The world is mine and I ain't gon' share Now everybody blow smoke in the air I keep my eyes on the road, but I know that you stare [Verse 2: Slug] Now I was at the party sleeping on the couch When I decided to grab a bottle of something and bounce I'd rather be by myself Than have to navigate another fake cry for help On the beaten path with a bandaged fist To represent the last half of the damn I give Play me in slow-mo', fly like a blimp Millennium Dodo, drive with a limp Windows down, heater blasting Got my coffee but I need some aspirin Watch me merge into speeding traffic With the truck-stop plastic, cheap sungla**es Show respect You broke down on the side of the road, wanna choke my neck I've got a glove-box full of stolen checks And I drink moonshine that the chrome reflects [Hook] [Verse 3: Slug] Flannel, look like a farmer Underneath camo, look like a hunter With that ski mask, look like a robber Sleeping in the barn with the doctor's daughter Got stories to wax, pour me a gla** I run with the ghosts of warriors past South side, call it pop life Y'all catch frostbite waiting at a stoplight All over the map we get festive It's a matter of cla** You can tell by my lack of attractive skeptics You just mad at my mustache Hey girl, we'll always have Memphis But right now, I want breakfast With the pedal to the metal 'til we hit West Texas Then cross to Mexico to see my dentist [Hook]

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