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emergency brake - ryan j. garcia lyrics

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i can roll joints with this weed on my floor
this car and my therapist do not compare
my seats smell like smoke and my speakers on low
take long looks at my steps, like bro what is a stair?

roll down the window cause i feel i can’t breathe
is it anxiety? or some smoke from my weed
wears my ozium? i’m on 417
these streets is so hot boy
man i just wanna speed

(chorus)

(away)
i can’t no more

(away, away)
where are my keys

(so far away)
already rolled, where am i driving

bumps on every rode

i decide to take
i just wish life came with some emergency brakes

(x2)

(verse)

there are times these seats host the greatest discussions
sometimes i rather listen to music with no interruption
it’s like these speakers can really feel every bit of my treble
and this a/c seem to just know that my temper ain’t level

oh it keeps me cool boy
from the things i wanna do boy
but i ride around with no fear
cause i’m from a hood where they carry a burner in each hand like lumiere

yeah
(bow)

so i do the dash saying this will pass, zoning out
lap is full of ash cause of what my ass be thinking bout

ah sh*t, i missed my turn but ain’t that just the story of my life
there ain’t no lesson learned if you miss the opportunity twice
where the h*ll’s my gps cause i can’t miss another chance
i’m driving with my tank on e but i am in here blowing gas

i think the sun pass is at home but i don’t really give a d*mn
what’s another toll? my body seems to just be built for them

take me on the fastest route to somewhere i’ve never been

i’m riding with the windows down just to air out
douse my body in cologne before i walk in my house
momma dukes looking at me crazy i smell like 12 pounds
how many times she told me not to box the whip?
i lost count

say my bendiciones, after such a good performance
i’m recording, breaking bud for the next l that i’ll be rolling like

oohhhh

sh*t, where the f*ck is my lighter
the streets are dark and so quiet and i’m just tryna get higher

things are moving so slowly, it feel like we bumper to bumper
i don’t fight my demons but me and other people’s demons be bumping

some turn nothing to something ,i turn something to nothing
my body shakes around fake sh*t, you would think that i am krumping
i value people more than myself with no type of funding
but i’m always number two like the pencil i pack all my blunts with

d*mn

(chorus)

i can roll joints with this weed on my floor
this car and my therapist do not compare
my seats smell like smoke and my speakers on low
take long looks at my steps like bro what is a stair

roll down the window cause i feel i can’t breathe
is it anxiety? or some smoke from my weed
wears my ozium? i’m on 417
these streets is so hot boy
man i just wanna speed

- ryan j garcia lyrics

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