Buck 65 - Sunday Driver lyrics

I walk the earth quietly, by day carry a net. With no strings attached, to a magic marionette. See there's so little time left and yet there's so much space. Thinking why don't you give me a call later on so we can touch base. I swim across the seven seas, and follow the sounds of handclaps. And just try to keep my balls out of the sand traps. Because before I go on live, all my enemies try to contrive plots to make my whole entire routine take a swan dive. But this ain't commercialized hip hop or indie pop. Nah, this ain't the mashed potato. Uh-Uh,this ain't the Lindy hop. The dance that goes with this is called the keep perfectly still. Before your brain becomes burnt out, like cheap circuitry will. Lately I've been spending almost all my nights with my hands full. Between writing my rhymes and my fights with the Man-Wolf. I'm building a better mousetrap and plus a wider fence. Because I trust my instincts and follow my spider-sense.