B. Dolan - Fall of T.R.O.Y. lyrics

P.O.S.: As I perspire through my pigment Fire a cigarette, sire some newness Dire corners stay dim lit Dim wits stickin to rugers, Slim kids sticking to coolness Brollic youth'll get ruthless Foolish will end up toothless I slide through Die when I'm lied to (lie back) Lay down, been dead, no salutes No crowns, right? They yellin 'hurry up and buy, Open your mouth and shut your eyes' And no one even acts surprised no more... Knowmore.org So sore no pores enough to support What i need to flush All we need is a rush All we need is a dutch All we need is some weed (wrong) All we need is a push All we need is a boost Who can't handle the truth? All I need is these big black motherf**in boots. Who are you? (On the move... on the move... Get a grip... Get a move on... ) Cadence Weapon: Young man is a gargoyle, get thrown off the building And for a while, they all used to talk about building But then the star, he got fired from the building Then he went from song billings to bomb building I made my drop Cause you really used to get it, how you'd push it to the limit and The kids vibe with it But you stopped Paralysis averages made on the charts have waned in the days Since you stopped Like a Wilson brother, you would fill song covers in the bin 'Til you get dropped The well is dry, head is high for once until you drop But you had nobody tell you, "buddy, you should stop" Cautionary tale, auctions, every sale, so they can shop Your remains still remain even when you're in a box Wait to see him at wax museums for photo ops No mas, no more, you were a who*e for the props The lock's not off, it's still on, you sing songs, but the light in Your mind's turned off Deferred trust, rust never sleeps, why won't you just move off? (On the move... on the move... Get a grip... Get a move on... ) B. Dolan: Don't we love the static? Fall back reset default automatic Pause that, Borders intact, cemented, all stagnant Struck dumb, stuck to the floor Raw arrogance Collectible kicks, the broad spectrum is sick We need more medicine Less cough suppressant. Settled on a coffin fetish And worship of solid objects It's good to be hard but it's harder to be honest It's nice to be smart but can you move an audience, Draw a crowd or paint a picture? The temple sinks under the weight of scripture The false idols and fake honors I admit I lost faith when they chained us to the monument; Saw the waves raise to erase our accomplishment. We're not healthy, we're just heavy. You're not a Souljah Boy you're a mercenary In a cryogenic sleep Fighting windmills, locked up in a deep freeze Froze in a still pose and sold to the museum Acquired some new pieces but You don't need 'em Hand over the j**els. This is a robbery. Nobody moves.