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 windy 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.