Yellow Brick Road

Brittney Denise Parks, Steve Francell, Ben Dickey

I hopped in the shower, I dreamed of a sauna (it all goes)
In the Havana, you rubbed on my body (my afro)
Forgot all my trauma, I washed it behind us ('cause I know)
We got this, we know we want this
The peak of the morning, the birds weren't awake and the sun sang
They asked for our secret to our love, I told them it's homemade
It's homemade, it's homemade
It's homemade

Back to the streets that's dipped in gold
And right when it feels like home, we go
Back to the roads we know
Our words are startin' to sink, no float
So, back to the streets that's dipped in gold
You know I would never let go, you know
Back to the streets that's dipped in gold
Back to the streets that's dipped in gold

When I first met you, I thought that I knew you (from back home)
You greeted me with a very warm welcome (so alone)
The feeling I felt for years all up in this big town
But not now, but not now
I know we got problems, forget what they taught us (that's bullshit)
Your strong sense of justice is what they're afraid of (they lose it)
And one day, they'll write a big novel about us (that's real shit)
But right now, but right now

Back to the streets that's dipped in gold
Back to the street that's
Back to the streets that's dipped in gold
Back to the street that's

Beliebteste Lieder von Sudan Archives

Andere Künstler von Electronica