Текст песни Buck 65 - Sunday Driver

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