Felt Lyrics - Singles - Morris Day

[Verse 1: Slug] 

Stepped inside this depth of a dive 

with nothing but my breath and this rep that I'm riding 

Check around the room to get a fresh look 

Most these names already in the guest book 

So I'm gonna sit on my stool and sip solo 

The missing half of a stack of ripped photos 

If she don't know so, the odds of blowing up 

Watch the word work, the gods are growing up 

I never had trouble with the lovable 

Walk down that hill and fuck all the buffalo 

And by the time I get done with the small town 

Ashes of bridges and all the walls fall down 

Sitting in the middle of dialogue 

I know I'm not the brightest star 

Otherwise I'd probably be one foot out the front entrance 

Before one sentence even starts breathin - I'm leavin' 

Don't need another reason to carry guilt 

But she got a fair grill and she very built 

Plus I like her smile and her eyes are wild 

Should I try to aspire you to write my style 

Hold up - you can't take every 20 something back to the lab 

just to jelly up her belly button 

No thank you, my name is Sean 

Here's a dollar for the jukebox - go play my song 

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[Chorus] {X2} 

Cause this type of shit happens every day 

We all go to heaven, even enemies may 

You better stay in your place where the memories play 

I'm just trying to live life cool - Morris Day 

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[Verse 2: Murs] 

IOn the B L O C, laying low key 

Hair gettin' braided whilst I'm talking to the homie 

Old Gee, standing in the corner not talking 

The little homie's sister wanna borrow my walkman 

It's front yard politics, we talk a lot of shit 

Who we wanna fight, broads that we're trying to hit 

Kinda get bored so we bail to the store 

Then we back, posted up for a few hours more 

Now the homeboy cousin bring his ass down stairs 

Tryin' to spark some convo, but don't nobody cares 

Neither life or a square, I'm not even lookin' 

No respect on the block cos he a mark n a hoodie 

And I know this fool gonna say something sideways 

The homeboy just start him out last Friday 

Twenty years old, getting punked every Friday 

Think that he hard cos he dips on the ? YA? 

But my crew don't play, no time for discussion 

Kept talkin' shit so my homeboy rushed him 

Stomped him out in the grass 'til he had a concussion 

Take ya ass in the house fool. don't say nuttin' 

As he walked up the stairs heard him cry through the screen door 

Sucker ass chump, what he tryin' to make a scene for 

Know that he heard me cos the window was open 

So I talked even louder and we kept on jokin' 

[Chorus] {X4}