Gud Grief - Busdriver

I don’t know about you

But I’m not comfortable with this

They came through talking smack

But didn’t come through with shit

I was minding my own

About to get served a sandwich

But I’m mentally disturbed

I think I’ve got nerve damage

See I was loading a soul

In the neck of a trumpet

I was so upset

Cuz

At the desk on some dumb shit

I thought it was peace

But there was already beef

I’m fucking with love

Now I’m in the club armed to the teeth

I don’t know about you

But I’m not comfortable with this

I know I made some mistakes

But how’d it come to all this

The women start bailing

When your ass is trailing

The grown smart niggas know

We don’t really hail them

You listen to screams in the cell block

All the bourgeois still shell shocked

While they getting shoe shines from the bellhop

And they keep they truffle oil well stocked

And them clothes and a bag of merch

Will get you targeted for a random search

So I’m red flagged

Like a sex worker in a desk job finding jet lag

Getting foot massages from the

So I’m swinging bats like the Brooklyn Dodgers

I don’t know about you

But I’m not comfortable with this

They came through talking styles

But didn’t sound like shit

I don’t know about you

I don’t know about you