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Watsky & Mody

by Watsky & Mody

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angemon44 thumbnail
angemon44 I dare you to find a better bluesgrass folk hip-hop album.. man 2012 was a special time Favorite track: Man of Constant Sorrow ft. Dylan Saunders.
BSTONEYKC thumbnail
BSTONEYKC Aside from this song being hilarious, this album is something odd. I really dig odd. kick Monday is my personal favorite track, mostly because I love Wax. That cat is talented and he puts together some great bars. So anything that Watsky and Wax get together on is worth a few minutes out of your day to check out. Favorite track: Kick Monday ft. Wax.
Stefani Hebble
Stefani Hebble thumbnail
Stefani Hebble I love that they have a different sound to them. They took a chance and it paid off cuz they have a great album. Favorite track: Kick Monday ft. Wax.
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Wow, what a ton of fun i'm sitting on the 101 in traffic and scratching on my ass again I guess it's out of habit cause cause it doesn't itch i fidget and I'm switching my position so my weight is on my left butt cheek Pissed cause i know my shitty phone is gonna ring again i want to fucking chuck it off an overpass I never want to think about a million little problems and I'm gonna hit ignore because I don't agree that we must speak cause I gotta get away I know gotta take a break i'm booking a vacation doesn't matter watcha call it, i'm a total workaholic and I haven't even made the time to have a any relationship in five damn years moving at the speed of light because I was afraid of living in the dark I always gotta finish what I start although I'm sorry that I didn't do the dishes, I was busy but I'll get em in the morning if the time appears
Chorus 1 In constant sorrow I am a man of constant sorrow I've seen trouble all my day. I bid farewell to San Francisco The place where I was born and raised. (The place where he was borned and raised) Verse 1 I'm almost never in the city I was born and bred in anymore but everywhere I tour I'm repping black and orange I'm trekking back and forth forgetting what I'm packing for I have to travel more and add a couple saddle sores Got these battle scars from riding in the cattle car you're noshing on some caviar, I'm gnawing on your apple cores Mental checklist You're Mr. International but last I checked I'm Mr. Continental Breakfast condiments and checks mix Condoms but I'm sexless But I'm optimistic I'll dismiss my bigger issues If I fit into some mistress like the long block in tetris I was roaming in wyoming when the popo were arresting me i told em questing for my destiny-- Noo I always end up in detention cause i'm itching And I'm searching for adventure and each city I go Chorus 2 It's fare thee well my old lover I never expect to see you again For I'm bound to ride that northern railroad Perhaps I'll die (die) upon this train (Perhaps he'll die upon this train) Verse 2 papa is a head doctor. i think he's Socrates But he can't get my twin brother to want to talk to me But I rarely try and so it's partly my hipocracy Got a couple secrets under lock and key as property manage em like manic depression sparking the brocoli I'd rather take my lumps display dirty laundry than pop a pill and stagger through this day like I'm zombie like I'm some unhappy and unnatural Blondie Abercrombie model with the fakest fucking smile plastered on me I Might be a sarcastic bastard, but I'm never plastic And my massacist tendency's imagining disaster and then mastering its recipe so I hit the road out of neccessity to stop guarding And I'll hop out and run if ever my car is not starting For now I'm not charging all my meals are business meals Cause my business is not starving Chorus 3 You can bury me in some deep valley For many years where I may lay Then you may learn to love another While I am sleeping in my grave (While he is sleeping in his grave) Verse 3 4AM again, the radio alarm is kicking in I've been to every shady old La Quinta Inn in Michigan Hitting the iginition till I'm stripping off my Michilen's if you catch me bitching then remind me it's magnificent my life is How the struggle's priceless Cause I got those lovely troubles that you couldn't put a damper on each unhappy camper on this planet is a champion If you think you're hopeless and you'll never be like kobe and you Got an empty mantle case you never in won a trophy man well you still won that marathon of swimming that fallopian And I've learned lot I could lose Cause there's a lot of dead sperm in the socks that I've used Who would love to be the feet in the socks in my shoes So better get to walking till those spoiled feet are bruised and then sow your royal oats till you're growing something new Chorus 4 Maybe your friends think I'm just a stranger My face you'll never see no more But there is one promise that is given I'll meet you on God's golden shore (That golden California shore)
Verse 1 I just graduated high school When she graduated Brown I kicked some game the best I ever laid it down We played around, We got official And when it comes to firsts, like hair, I got a fistful I said I love you, and I'm pretty sure I meant it truly She's still the only one I've ever said it too, she Gave me a fever that I've still got I find MILFs hot, and I'll scream it from the hilltop it's not Tomato, tomahto when it come to Demis, gimme Moore before Lovato And if you're Demi Moore And if I'm 24 Well earth's a trillion years old what's twenty more? But when we talk I upset your ulcer increase your pulse or tend to insult your knowledge I apologize it's the wrong subject let's not fuck this up by discussing pop culture Remember Welcome Back Cotter? Bridge Over Troubled Water Well I don't But baby that's why God invented iPhones Chorus 1 And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know. God bless you, please Mrs. Robinson. Heaven holds a place for those who pray, Hey, hey, hey Verse 2 you're an old wine, you're a fine cheese at this rate you'll be Angelina by your nineties A double dimepiece, freaking siamese I'm fully legal, people, you can check my IDs Be damned if I freeze I'm a la flambe Jay is Venti pimping but pimping Tall or Grande He's popping cristal I'm sipping on some andre it's been a long day I want to romance you soon I plan to dim all the lights and put on something we can dance to that doesn't draw attention to my age, like pan flute So get comfy if you're chafing in that pants suit It either makes me kinda weird or some kinda pioneer but let me dry your tears if you're peering in the mirror and only see the years you fear appearing in your face instead of Helen Mirren, well it's clear you look hella nice A younger fella's And as sugar for the cougars I was on Ellen... twice Chorus 2 Koo-koo-ka-choo, Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know. God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson. Heaven holds a place for those who pray, Hey, hey, hey Breakdown STOP! When I say 'don't get,' you say 'surgery' Don't get Surgery Don't get Surgery When I say 'age,' you say 'gracefully' Age! Gracefully Age! Gracelly I beg you Chorus 3 Where have you gone, Poor D'Angelo Our nation turns it's lonely eyes to you. What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson. I don't believe he's left and gone away Hey hey hey.
Verse 1 (Mieka) Minding my own business Knock at the door, who is it? Be right there, one minute Gotta get up and go get it Got white hair, eyes all crazy Now most madmen don't faze me But these guys, I'll admit it, got me scared we're finished Chorus The scientists proved we're all gonna die They got charts and equations, the how and the why You did not invite em and neither did I But they're here, drink up, we're all gonna die Poetry section 1 Ghosts must always feel like they're visiting their old high school They don't recognize any of these new kids The halls, they twist the same, but there are all these odd new posters on the walls When I'm trying to get to get bed I start thinking about endings And instead of simply counting trying to sleep I'm counting down I'm sacrificing sheep At parties I wander from room to room not sure what I'm looking for I think I'm supposed to find another person here when I smoke too much weed And I get paranoid that every pair of eyes is glued to me And maybe they are And I'm not crazy And the spirit of every bastard who ever had a drink in this place is back for old times' sake Maybe there's a million of them having their own party beside us and they're staring thinking, "Look at all those lonely, solid people Pretending to check their cell phones Grandma lived 99 years and never learned to drive At the end of her life She didn't know one person left in her own age God's a bully and he makes it rain dodgeballs You can stand off in the corner and you might last a little longer But you'll never win that way Verse 2 (Mieka) I go do my laundry Those dogs are right behind me Get lost in some party Those creeps will always find me Who are they? What is this? I mind my own damn business Always there to remind me all about their findings Chorus Poetry 2 You're telling me a little vodka could kill me? How do you even know it's there? it's so still you can see right through it well you can see through me too, said the ghost and I'm here You know because you can feel me And that makes sense Because I'm too fucked up to be skeptical right now You get drunk and start believing in things Like that shapes and even better shapes Like that a night with some stranger's gonna make you happy the only people brave enough for suicide are the cowards We're all looking out of the corner of our eyes For where to go next Like "this party sucks, there must be someplace better" the ghosts, they know we're thinking like chumps. they know it's not important who we go home with tonight. Partly cause they can't generate friction, so they can't have sex But mostly because party is right here And it's the best party ever I mean look bro, ben franklin is making out with marie curie Fucking classic, Reagan's doing his falling out the window bit again, Casper can't even hold his liquor It goes right through him You never seen smoke rings until you've seen a Ghengis Khan hit the hookah Chris Farley'll even let you use him as a vaporizer bag if you ask real nice Our eyes are little projectors Life's a drive-in movie theater and my grandma needs a ride Bridge I don't want to go The way they say If I gotta go let it be my way (X4) Chorus
Verse 1 what up ninja? put your feet up I don't Want to Be the guy to say the night is over when it just got great take a load off and your coat off how do ya do, do ya wanna get stupid cause we're gonna go bigger than the lone star state if you're dedicated to your celebrating then you'll have another and another and another and another and a hundred more I'm making some friends and I bet the game is intense but i wasn't paying attention i wonder what's the score break some bread shake them dreads yo mama said I'm awesome and I'm hot because I'm rocking like a boss the way I'm popping off a bottletop the amount of beer was breathtaking In the morning when waking if i get a headache I'm getting out of bed, naked and i'm gonna stagger to the kitchen and i'll have a bit of bread and water then i'm heading back to sleep [INSTRUMENTAL BREAK] Verse 2 lift your mug or sippy cup unless you're gonna cut a rug jitterbug giddyup get it get it get it get it thug do your thing get it get it get it get it thug do your thing get it get it get it get it get it get it get it thug do your thing some men drink and overdose some drink and go comatose some they drink and drink and drink until the meet the holy ghost ditch the ropes play the field But don't ever take that wheel If you had the break the seal if you meet the devil you can make that deal never gonna be alone with everyone around me and i know i got a bounty I'm a lucky mothertrucker Other people got the riches but i bit a liquid and a bunch of people here to help me drink and play settle up the tab then when you're paid up order up a cab cause it's gonna save ya maybe you'll be getting lucky with some loving but i've got a feeling I'll rubbing what the good lord gave ya (maybe I'll be getting lucky with some loving but i've got a feeling I'll rubbing what the good lord gave)



released February 1, 2012

Produced by Kush Mody and George Watsky
Executive produced by George Watsky
Arranged by Kush Mody
Lyrics written by George Watsky, except where noted
Engineered by Nils Montan
Additional engineering by Steve Valenzuela & Andrew Oedel & Robbie Rowland
Mixed by Andrew Oedel
Mastered by Ricardo Gutierrez for Stadium Red
Album art by Philip Lumbang
Graphic design by Brian Yoon


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gwatsky Los Angeles, California

George Watsky is a poet, author and hip hop artist.

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