She had a bad dream in the back the same one as yesterday, the same one as week by her favorite favorites, elmo, barbie, her purple blanket and that little match box looks like dads car its on the lever, pretends its nascar it jumps over cause it can fly that far with in the front seat frontin' like a rapstar
hey girl, oh girl daddys the he knows the words to everything on the radio he the accent even makes all the faces and when he raises his voice it makes him feel like famous
yea papa got his on weavin down street tryin to get his scene on in the whip to say somethin out the window bobbin' his head to the beat on the good daddy smoke no weed until the bass her back to sleep but he can steak his mack she takes a nap to the pretty sounds of the gangster rap the high hats are angels keep her distracted from the strangest voices escape is a paradox, because the childhood is in that music box
daddys drive around, mommys work shifts sweet dreams, sleep precious lay down in that music box, escape in the sound of music box (x2)
yea, daddy knows people hes the guy with the suit and tie see at the court and it seems he aint tryin to talk to police but at the car wash they him like the star that she sees they like big wheels and the lollipop she gets makes her like a big deal not allowed to it yet, gotta sit still like the toy that she knows is come with the kids meal
she loves food health conscious dad, he her the juice a sip of soda, builds the pride go ahead baby girl spill those fries nuh uh papa cant roll a office in the way she laid them napkins all across the seat never puts her up on the upholstery just kicks em side to side to the beat .. on the she sings along dad does she knows all the words but she out the bad ones except bitch, she always sings the bitch cause it makes her laugh, its her magic trick
and when daddy mommy up they fight they fights about money they fight about so she concentrates so so on the music and loses inside of the bass and the movement
(x2)
turn that off.