Black Mamba Songtext
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We've got one chance to break out
We need it now
Cause I'm sick and tired of waiting
Sick of this fucking apartment
We need it now
Cause I'm sick and tired of waiting
Sick of this fucking apartment
Love me, or leave me, or rip me apart
This is the voice that I was given
And if you don't like it
Take a long walk off
Of the shortest pier you can find
And I'll be singing it out
I'll be singing
Oh Mr. Magazine
I never wrote one single thing for you
Or your so-called music scene
You don't mean a thing to me
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
You need it too
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
When they review the debut
What if the critics hate you?
Don't worry, cause we might just catch
Somebody off their feet
Well, they can love it, or leave it, or rip it apart
We're living what we're signing
So I guess that's a step in the right direction
Clever composition
And this honesty, honesty
Oh Mr. Magazine
I never wrote one single thing for you
Or your so-called music scene
You both mean shit to me
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
You need it too
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
So save your breath and the money you spent
Go work in retail and spare the suspense
Just don't take chances on anything at all
Anything at all
So afraid of anything
That may not come that easy
Too afraid of anything
You may have not seen before
So afraid of anything
That may not come that easy
Too afraid of anything that may not...
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
You need it too
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
So save your breath and the money you spent
Go work in retail and spare the suspense
Just don't take chances on anything at all
Anything at all
This is the voice that I was given
And if you don't like it
Take a long walk off
Of the shortest pier you can find
And I'll be singing it out
I'll be singing
Oh Mr. Magazine
I never wrote one single thing for you
Or your so-called music scene
You don't mean a thing to me
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
You need it too
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
When they review the debut
What if the critics hate you?
Don't worry, cause we might just catch
Somebody off their feet
Well, they can love it, or leave it, or rip it apart
We're living what we're signing
So I guess that's a step in the right direction
Clever composition
And this honesty, honesty
Oh Mr. Magazine
I never wrote one single thing for you
Or your so-called music scene
You both mean shit to me
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
You need it too
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
So save your breath and the money you spent
Go work in retail and spare the suspense
Just don't take chances on anything at all
Anything at all
So afraid of anything
That may not come that easy
Too afraid of anything
You may have not seen before
So afraid of anything
That may not come that easy
Too afraid of anything that may not...
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
You need it too
Pick it up, pick it up
It's what you wanted
Pick it up, pick it up
So save your breath and the money you spent
Go work in retail and spare the suspense
Just don't take chances on anything at all
Anything at all
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