Postcards - Grieves

I woke up in a city I can’t even say the name of

People looking at me wondering where the fuck I came from

I had to catch a flight to them

Drank a couple whiskies in the air

Called my momma when I landed and told her not to be scared

I’m a rolling stone

Never really knowing when I’m going home

Went and caught the itch and got the beat like it was Cortisone

I’m out here

You can go ahead and let them know

That the groove has to be slumped

And that bass has got to be low

This that shit that you can play in LA

From Chicago to Seattle all the way to BK

Caught the A to JFK and had to hop on a plane

I’ll send you ass a postcard

Postcard

I’ll send your ass a postcard

Postcard

I said I woke up in a city I ain’t never even been to

Called the homie Chords to see what shit we could get into

I had to jump a pond to them

Got my luggage searched when I arrived

Po-po thought that I was holding

Told them I don’t have the time

I’m a vagabond

Bag is packed and loaded and the drank is strong

Watched the city disappear behind me like it’s camouflaged

I’m out here

You can go ahead and say it loud

That snare has to be crisp

That ass has got to be round

That glass has got to be tipped

That lost has got to be found

That music’s got to go up

Because this shit’s about to go down

That glass has got to be tipped

That lost has got to be found

That music’s got to go up

Because this shit’s about to go down

This that shit that you can play in LA

From Chicago to Seattle all the way to BK

Caught the A to JFK and had to hop on a plane

I’ll send you ass a postcard

Postcard

I’ll send your ass a postcard

Postcard