Music Up
• Written by Lance
Hook:
Turn the volume down
And the music up
My disdain’s too plain
You all can’t keep up
Got the verse just right
Terse just like I like
You ain’t ready for this
But its already time
It’s kind of a crime
How I took so much time
But when I do it
You know I’m gonna do it right
Ain’t much left
But it don’t mean nothing
Cause I start with that
And I come back with something
Verse 1:
I love music, hate losing
So when I see music losing quality
It kind of makes me wanna be
Kind of unkind to the kind of person
Couldn’t keep their shit straight
Ran straight to the hits but
Couldn’t ever innovate
Find a better way
Or fucking don’t do it
This time of year the airwaves are
Sounding like they are all polluted
You’re at the top?
It’s looking like the bottom
I spot em, standing on the world
I want it on my shoulder
And mine is getting colder
Life’s a bitch but I know that
I will be the one to hold her
No matter what comes
Despite what came
You can’t sacrifice what is
Sacred to the game
Its simple, now I
I know that I am subject to all
Of the same desires
But spiting shit that ain’t no good
Tastes like a pair of pliers
I hear just one of you spit
Sounds like a pair of liars
Do that too long and your soul
Is gonna paralyze ya
You’re like a paraplegic
Caught on a roller-coaster
You’re going fast, but on your own
The truth is shown, cover blown
Cover girl, acid thrown
Fake throne, emperor, all alone
And you’re rocking new clothes
Rocking to the beat
Of a heart beat slowed
You rock to the beat of a crown
The deaf are going wild
In the middle of a crowd
I hear the sound loud
Your volumes turned up
But the music’s down
(Hook)
Verse 2:
A hardship builds one
Gets you through a stormy sea
Without effort
You make yourself an effigy
In due time
Death comes from lethargy
That’s why I’m leaving
Running to the death of me
I chose perfection, conviction, addiction
Put them all together
That’s my dereliction
Deserting those who care about
Fame and fortune
Carpe diem nothing that
A deity would say
Omnipotent you could pick
What you wanna spit
But I don’t have the luxury of
Doing that shit
Quality from qualia
A dose of death to all of ya
Bullshit beneath the behemoth
You claim to be a matador
But underneath you don’t know
What matters more
I’m not your competition
This music is rendition
A solemn ode to humanities
Failed condition
I’m not a matador
I’m the horn
As I play the music loud
I pierce into your feeble shroud
The feeble should piece together
How to get their shit together
Torn apart, open heart
Reciprocate, call it art
Put on pages and then played
It gets to what I’m trying to say
I tried to tell ya
I tried to tell ya
Ya’ll should know
I tried to tell ya
I tried to tell ya
Its time to go
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About the Artist
Lance
Member since December 24 2014