Everlast

Everlast - Painkillers lyrics

Your rating:
first to
 welcome you to New York City.
 We'd like to thank you for flying Pan Am.
 The local time is 6:45 a.m. and the
 temperature is 89?.
 I've been up all nightOn the redeye flight
 The dawn's early light
 Got the skyline bright
 I'm in the back of a car service
 My driver's kind of nervous
 'Cause I'm tokin' on a blunt that's fat
 You say you know where you at
 I say I know where I am
 And if you really want a tip then mister don't get flam
 I ain't tryin' to be rude and I ain't stressin' you gramps
 But this shit right here, it be the breakfast of champs
 I've been tokin' on this since thirteen years old
 And when I look up at my wall I see platinum and gold
 And there ain't nobody sneezin' at the money I fold
 And I ain't here for your pleasin', so put that shit on hold
 Just keep your mouth shut and get me to the hotel and turn the radio
 up
 While I finish this L...
 Bell Boy: Welcome back to the Five Seasons Mr. Ford, your usual room
 is ready
 and waiting.
 Let me take your luggage. If you need anything while you're staying,
 just let
 me know.
 Everlast: Good lookin' out. That's for you. I hop out my car, step
 into the
 lobby
 Everybody's on the floor, it's a motherfuckin' robbery
 The shit's in progress, I can feel the stress
 I wanna silenty to God how did I get in this mess
 They tell me to freeze and get down on my knees
 Between my jewels and my cash, I'm holdin' thirty five G's
 They told me to run it, so I got bold and I fronted
 And like Slick Rick said, I kew I shouldn't of done it
 'Cause now they standin' over me, watchin' me bleed
 Damn, I got to quit smokin' all this weed
 There's a pain in my chest, but yo, I must be blessed
 Because before I faded out I saw the EMS
 The paramedics, they greet me with some anestheticsThey killin' my
 pain
 They screamin' my nameTryin' to keep me in the conscious world
 I'm thinkin' about my mom, my sister, and my girl
 I'm prayin' to God don't let this go too far
 As they rush me into the St. Luke's O.R.
 They pull the bullets out my chest and give 'em back in a jar
 Now I'm wearin' this scar 'cause I tried to play hard
 Doctor: Mr. Ford, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you.
 Everlast: What are you talkin' about?
 Doctor: It would appear that one of the bullets grazed your spine and
 damaged
 the cord.
 Everlast: So what are you tryin' to tell me?
 Doctor: Well, it's safe to say I don't think you'll be jumpin' around
 anymore.
 Yo, this can't happen to me, I just can't believe it
 Trapped in a wheelchair, a paraplegic
 There ain't no rehab, there ain't no therapy
 For the rest of my life somebody's gotta take care of me
 And people stare at me with pity in their eyes
 And every mornin' I rise to a life of despise
 And ever night I think I might never rock the mic again
 'Cause my brain's fucked up on percacet and vicadin
 Might as well be heroin pulsin' through my veins
 Gotta kill these pains or blow out my brainsTo free me from these
 chains
 I'm trapped in this physical hellTo walk again I just might sell my
 soul
 And I'm only twenty somethin' years old (years old
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: Erik Schrody

Composer: ?

Publisher: Tommy Boy Music

Details:

Released in: 1998

Language: English

Appearing on: Whitey Ford Sings the Blues (1998)

Share your thoughts

This form is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

0 Comments found