Sam (is Dead Lyrics - Domo Genesis

This life is a game if you wanna play 

Counting all your own mistakes 

Living it with no delay 

So fast I'm getting growing pains 

Father didn't show me my instincts to take the open lane 

I go insane 

All the problems come with my growing age 

Blowing haze tryna clear the doubt that's sitting on my brain 

I don't complain but the kid inside me's feeling so restrained 

Gotta stay golden 

Let desire rekindle the flame 

Searching for the Fountain of Youth 

When I'm free in my brain 

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Bring in the horns 

You hear that fucking brass 

That's little boy nigga with the trumpets 

Marching with the bandwagon 

Looking for his heart 

No sleeve but his hand carry muskets 

Lurking in the meadows, Oblivion 

Mothafuck Geppetto, he's a leader not a puppet 

Some professors nuttier than Klump's dick 

So think before you blink and aye-aye make assumptions 

Niggas 

Your left, your left, your left, right left 

Niggas is coming 

Your left, your left, your left, right left 

Photos 

They want a story - a story 

I write the shit that I find very amusing 

Cause all the other fucking stories are boring 

It's really awkward to know that a bunch of kids do adore me 

It's like I fathered these fuckers 

So you won't find me on Maury 

I'm still a kid in my heart so I have a problem maturing 

But it will come from experiences and shit I see touring 

I'm like a bird when I'm soaring, really high 

And I'm really horny, from watching this porn 

Nope, but 

Bring in the horns 

You hear that fucking brass 

That's little boy nigga with the trumpets 

Marching with the bandwagon 

Looking for his heart 

No sleeve but his hand carry muskets 

Lurking in the meadows, Oblivion 

Mothafuck Geppetto, he's a leader not a puppet 

Some professors nuttier than Klump's dick 

So think before you blink and aye-aye make assumptions 

Niggas 

Your left, your left, your left, right left 

Niggas is coming 

Your left, your left, your left, right left 

5, 4, 3, 2, and where's Tyler 

Bottom of the countdown, shit ain't been the same 

Since I found out Hodgy Beats ghost wrote for Bow-Wow 

Now I'm the loud shock value style foul mouth fucker 

That your teenage kid likes to bow down 

Riding around town in Seattle 

With the same shotgun that Kurt used to click-clack, boom-pow 

Still suicidal but some assume that I'm cool now 

Cause I got a fucking award and my own room now 

Nope but I can flip shit like a couch pillow 

And have my death silent like a loose vowel 

The bandwagon turned into caboose, so 

So, don't let that little nigga trumpet lose sound, just let him play