Текст песни Rare Americans - Rhythm Kitchen
Оригинальный текст песни Rhythm Kitchen
Heaven said cook em’ a dish with a pinch of that groovyMixed with some originality
It had to be stuff in cupboard or touch of some lovin’
Plus about a dozen kick drums
It’s um, something like lunch time, I’m um, stumping, like drum line
Rhymes fall down from sky, young minds
Find it fun fucking frying French fries
If it means I can buy a clean mic
Make me sound butter, better, bubble sprite
Better blow, better grow, huddle tight
Set the plan, run the play, if I recite
A verse thats been cooked on the stove with open flame
Chef Boyardee, Smoke the name
All my ingredients organically locally grown, that’s closer to home
Propane, grill order, charcoal pit
Stay out my kitchen, that’s hard core shit
Welcome to Rhythm Kitchen
Life is delicious
We got everything you want
It’s the house of good livin’
Some come here to remember
Some come here to forget
Please make yourself at home
This is the best that it gets
At Rhythm Kitchen
At Rhythm Kitchen
At Rhythm Kitchen mmm
Mouthwatering
Living like a king
Last I remember
She was holding me
I drank that tea
My body started groovin’
My feet felt every beat
I could smell the pie & pudding
And the sizzlin’ duck confit
She grabbed my hands and twirled me ‘round
Was floating on the sea
Looked me deadpan in the eyes
Said gotta let go if ya wanna be free
Welcome to Rhythm Kitchen
Life is delicious
Everything you want
It’s the house of good living
Some things I can’t remember
But I sure won’t forget
I made myself at home
It was the best that it gets
At Rhythm Kitchen
At Rhythm Kitchen
At Rhythm Kitchen
At Rhythm Kitchen
