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jack - rob liberachi lyrics

[intro: superstar bandman, superstar bandman as og]
“and here he is guys, bandman. here have a seat in that chair right across from me. so for the first time viewers who don’t know i’m og. everyone calls me that because those are my initials. bandman this is your first interview so we’d like to welcome you here. so you’re from detroit, you rap, produce, i hear you’re also a small time pianist, and you like to write and tell stories whether fiction or nonfiction.”
“if we got enough time i’ll tell you about a fictional one i wrote when i was in 11th grade. and yeah i do play the piano a little bit.”
“well there’s a small grand piano to your right maybe you should play us a little something.”
“alright man.”

[verse 1]
im bandman mr. black ski
dope with the piano that’s a crack key, racist cause i only hit the black key (ok)
spray her eyes now she watching kids call that latchkey (lets keep it clean here)
always running through her head just like where a track be
like i’m sick of crippin’ boy i write my raps in blood (what?)
with my finger whats a pen that’s 4 digits to a slug
get to spitting it’s so hot i gotta put it in a mug
man i’m finna squeeze this trigger like this pistol want a hug
pad soggy pages filled with blood writing with my fingers (come on man)
but can’t nothing numb this pain i can’t hang around no drinkers
i can’t trust a thotty they be turning on you like some blinkers
and y’all steady going back and forth just like a set of swingers
i go stupid like im patrick yeah that’s why call me star
every bar gotta fill the crack just like you put some tar
on this road to success n-gga you gone need a car
in this booth if you ain’t g-ssing n-gga you won’t make it far
spitting pain when i rap blood running down my lip
man my life is like a movie i’m just tryna find the script
cause i hate the way it’s going can i skip it to the clip
when a n-gga got some grammys and i never gotta trip (you’ll get there one day)
yeah i did a dirty deed i got ate up by the greed
yes indeed in this ring fighting like apollo creed
on these keys man i ride the beat just like a n0ble steed
what i need playing pain now you about to hear my fingers bleed (hm?)

[verse 2]
clean up the piano white keys look like candy canes
came from me playing on these keys got some bl–dy stains (dude get a wipe or something)
never been the type to blow smoke like some moving trains
kept my life up under wraps (under where) ain’t talking hanes
i’m a free thinker but for verses dog you gotta pay
in this race the past catching up dog what can you say
even if i go on vaca still can’t get away (why not?)
i’m the needle that can get you higher in that stack of hay (whoa)
sleeping on me anastasia i can get you where you lay (dude calm down)
9 ah get to busting hit your dog with 50 shades of grey (calm down)
how y’all sound when y’all be lying talking bout that trigger trey
songz talking bout them drugs never even sold a j

[interlude: superstar bandman and superstar bandman as og]
“bro is you good?”
“run it back.”

[verse 3]
pills kept my pockets up i call them coffee beans (i call them coffee beans)
back when i was younger had to get the check by any means
me and whats his face was doing that when we was only teens
we always kept the medicine we had to kick it with the fiends
looking like two doctors playing soccer cop and shoppers at our locker (at our locker)
now they really want my bars every fan a pill popper
bars ah have your head spinning like propellers on a chopper
had the juice with the punches bro a card molly-whopper (molly-whopper)
got her legs wide open like i’m about to kick a field goal
n-ggas rocking br-ss chains n-gga that ain’t real gold
the feds say they about to cuff your brother and you still told (and you still told)
cause you ain’t stand 10 toes you should’ve wore some steel toed (you should’ve wore some steel toed)
they saying bandman you gone make it when some pigs fly
well let me k!ll a cop then so you can see a pig die (dude stop it right now, stop!)
got all this dirty money in my pocket its a pig sty
that strap is like a stove it hit (n-gga) your head it make your wig fry, n-gga

[outro: superstar bandman as og]
“dude…your on my show. my show, talking about…k!lling cops? stop it. alright just-just stop it. we didn’t need none of that. -sighs- oh my gosh man. -groans- just talk about, just talk about that story you wrote when you were in school.”

- rob liberachi lyrics

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