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lirik lagu better luck next time – new mayhem

[intro]
alright, we’re going to end with a thoughtful, introspective track. get the tissues ready…psyche

[verse 1]
i don’t really rap for my own good health
but i’ve chosen this poison from the highest of shelves
so i guess it would help if it maybe went well
and i maybe got fame and acclaim and some wealth
but the truth being told, i don’t care if i’m hot
i don’t care if i’m cold, i don’t care if i rot
i don’t care if i eat, i don’t care if i starve
put me on a pedestal, or the bottom of a barge
i could never aim for a target that i don’t know
bounce from love to hatred like they seized on a pogo
put up a lot of walls, but they’re all just cater
swing for their praise like a cross-eyed batter
give a little banter, give a little candor
waggle in the air like a clip winged condor
or better yet a pigeon, a clay clad lad
who they aim at slowly, and shoot down fast
but even as i lay in the bloodstained gr-ss
imma say, “oh dearie, not so fast!
i never gave a hoot for your claps or your boots
but i get a little tired of my own horn toots
while i can’t earn praise, i can still promise you
if you didn’t like this, you can check back soon!”

[pre-chorus]
yeah, you can bet, i am keeping up the saga
i won’t stop until i’m dead like i’m the baba yaga
but if you think it’s caca, don’t ever think it pains me
i have a little mantra, i’m gonna speak it plainly

[chorus]
if you thought it kind of sucked
better luck next time
if you thought it really stunk
better luck next time
if you didn’t dig the rhymes
better luck next time
if you thought the beats were dry
better luck next time
if you had to stop halfway
better luck next time
can’t understand a word i say
better luck next time
if you thought the tracks were trash
and in your ears you got a rash
i’m sorry sir, you’re really sunk
there’s nothing left to say but

[post-chorus]
keep em lukewarm like a day old froyo
pull em back in like a good, strong yo-yo
keep it in their heads, like my first name coco
they keep me all fed, like a common hobo

[verse 2]
they think the plane is there’s but
i be in the c-ckpit
think they keep me out the house
but i be the locksmith
think their thoughts are special ‘cause they be the ones who thunk it
their words are empty, cavernous, and no one goes spelunking
there are two types of peeps, but they’re both fluff-filled
there’s the kind with opinions, and the kind who need thrills
and the former form carefully worded -ssessments
while the second consume them for feed and refreshment
so, the latter are flat in regards to hot air, but their
blimp gets ballooned by the viewpoints all shared
and they’re carried along by the winds of the song
of the judgement of good, bad, ok, right or wrong
and more or less orgies of armies am-ss
to deface you or praise you, til you’re breathing your last
and they stomp on your grave, or they rave and they rage
because your memory relies on their combined good grace
(oof, ok, one last time)
people are fickle, they can boo and deny you
traversing their favor’s a treacherous bayou
and i’m trying to come out clean cut like i’m caillou
but i might end up shadowing bests like i’m raichu
if i can’t be the king, imma still be a kaiju
making mad tunes as i bust through hyrule
the rates undulate, imma wade through the tide pool
if they tsunami, imma dive straight through that, too

[pre-chorus]
hide your women and your children
from the ear sore i am building
i’m not changing up the playlist
so the best that i can say is

- new mayhem

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