the art of storytelling, part 1 - spose lyrics
[intro]
part 1
chapter 1
dankonia
[hook]
let me take you to the corner of the game
where the sinners all win and the saints feel pain
where there’s no umbrella in the rain
where there’s no umbrella in the rain
let me take you to the corner of the game
where the sinners all win and the saints feel pain
where there’s no umbrella in the rain
where there’s no umbrella in the, in the
[verse]
you don’t wanna feel nothing close to this
see for good behavior, he was the poster kid
we were all smoking weed, he wasn’t smoking it
always looking like novak djokovic
martin came in the game called america from bulgaria
a work visa on the foreign exchange
he worked eighty hour weeks all exhausted
boiling lobsters all summer for the tourists in maine
and he was good at it, he did such a dank job
that his coworkers nicknamed him “the tank god”
boss noticed it, it wasn’t overlooked
got every order out on time and never overcooked
the way he’d swing the saber, split the claws like an english major
in the steam of the tank he would blink at vapors
go hard, put the dishes in the sink for later
his hard work stuck out like d-cks in pajamas
sat-rday night dinner rush
slayed more slips than bananas
bumping juelz santana with amber
clock out, high-five, apr-n in the hamper
he could only do right in his new life
his boss copped him a brand new blue bike
it was a raleigh, balling
now he could bike to work instead of waiting for the trolley
it had a mini maine license plate
“tankgod” on it with the letters engraved
upon receiving the gift, his eyes started leaking a bit
he was completely appreciative
he felt good the next couple weeks rollin’
new bike plus he got a raise, like golden
sunlight, then one night he laid his head down
woke up the next day, the bike’s nowhere to be found
he said “sh-t” in bulgarian and walked to work
he was so disheartened that he forgot his shirt
he worked a double then he got a ride home from amber
he told her he was impressed how she drove a standard
but as they turned onto his road
they saw the red and blue lights dancing on the windows
“i wonder what happened,” said martin
and then they saw that they were parked right in front of his apartment
cops and guards, chargers and one in a larger
suv surrounded martin’s cottage by the harbor
they came to bust a thief, sucks to be
martin ’cause he’s who they want in custody
so he steps out the whip, looking european
they said, “put your f-cking hands up where i can see ’em!”
martin complied, though he didn’t know why
“i mean, i had always been such a good guy”
but the cops thought, that they had caught him red-handed
the eastern european voiced blue bike bandit
but martin had been robbed, god d-mn it
he had woken up this morning and his bike had vanished
but, now the bike was back
lying next to it was an envelope in the gr-ss
the type people use when depositing cash
“what the f-ck did i do?” martin wanted to ask
but now, it’s all cuffed wrists and mirandas
tears slid down his cheek
he yelled, “i don’t know what i did!” to amber
she stood there, sobbing in the streets
see, martin won the bad luck lottery
he got f-cked in the -ss, no sodomy
just a bullsh-t end to the odyssey
he got charged with a aggravated robbery
[outro]
and then deported, back to bulgaria
and you know he didn’t do that sh-t, you and i both know that
but who did?
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