Christon Gray - Coachella lyrics

[Verse 1: Christon Gray] I'm slick as Rick with the pen, so call me Crisco Still waiting on my Mercedes like The Count of Monte Cristo It's been slow, so my Camry will have to do Until 2028 and then I'm handing it down to Blue Yesteryear was like the best of years, uh huh All I had was my pad, the writing came from my dad The voice came from my mother, the keys came from jazz I used to mix it with the cla**ical In the basement stacking sounds with my Casio I've been misunderstood for a Mr. Know-it-all By my dear friend William, thought we'd raise each other's children Now we at each other's necks, and what's next is broken jaws So we accept, neglect the protocol Left my trouble on treble clefs, yet I hope he calls One minute we living it up, next thing I know now it's Geronimo But you can ask the rainbow, life is full of ups and downs But at the end it's still a pot of gold And so I'm praying that these Leprechauns can reconcile Until then I'll see Billy on the holiday, God bless the child The short end of the stick is always the weakest And only a fool plays pool with broken English We like kingpins against caterpillars Who haven't switched to bu*terflies let alone gorillas We like kingpins against caterpillars Who haven't switched to bu*terflies let alone gorillas [Hook: Christon Gray] So let's go fellas, the Coachella's waiting and I wanna see if we can get on the stage On the coattails of some old Elevationists I wanna see if we remember the days I wanna see if we remember the days [Verse 2: Taelor Gray] Microphone check, like a hockey term This is Odyssy, we in it like a soccer mom We all up in them taste buds sonically I got a loaded shotty and I'm tryna k** a mockingbird Cause this originality, so give me the music fresh A festival, fresh as a Bethesda pool Yeah He's risen but we cryptic when we speak the truth It's hard to keep it really real when everything's a Jesus [?] I should have saved that for the note pad It feel's different when you rapping from the Notes app Yes we still will keep it live Empty out that magazine if you try to k** my vibe That's that second amendment flow I'm chugging the engine, go The peddle floored, rapping be the metaphor Playing with a [?] so I'm calling it a settled score What y'all tripping bout the Devil for The funny thing is I've never been a Tribe fan This ain't Cleveland Ain't no feeling like that live band k**ing Man they k**ing for the evening Good evening, Hitchco*k They call it hip hop, I'm young black and living With the pick pocket's rhythm, before you know it's gone Man I had to [?] I'm tryna find Sinai I found out I was sipping on cyanide The room is spinning, circular reasoning I had to surf and turf, they serve it in the Riesling This the first date, working on my chivalry With more bu*terflies than an intermural swimming league And so I treat it like the first time We treat it like the first time Pen hit the paper, young Christ and Taelor Was on an elevator and we waiting for the top floor I'm kind of cool on that Tom Ford [Hook: Taelor Gray] So let's go fellas, the Coachella's waiting and I wanna see if we can get on the stage On the coattails of some old Elevationists I wanna see if we remember the days So let's go fellas, the Coachella's waiting and I wanna see if we can get on the stage On the coattails of some old Elevationists I wanna see if we remember the days