Blow At High Dough - The Tragically Hip

Smoking out, pouring up, keep that lean up in my cup All my car got leather and wood, in my hood we call it buck Everybody wanna ball, holla at broads at the mall If he up, watch him fall, I can't fuck with y'all (Pussy ass hoe niggas) I can't fuck with y'all (Bitches all up in my business) I can't fuck with y'all (Industry of counterfeits) I can't fuck with y'all Taking off when you landing Bitch niggas gonna throw tantrums And I'm dancing on them stars The galaxy ain't got room for y'all Ain't nothing gonna happen soon for y'all While I'm here, and every day I hear Your bullshit, self-pity Reason why you never dealt with me Reason why your girl dealt with me Hands up in the building, we get busy, and say R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P., yep R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P., yep That's exactly what this sound like A to the A to the L-I-Y A-H, give it up two times Then give it right back, don't blow my high Smoking out, pouring up, keep that lean up in my cup All my car got leather and wood, in my hood we call it buck Everybody wanna ball, holla at broads at the mall If he up, watch him fall, I can't fuck with y'all (Pussy ass hoe niggas) I can't fuck with y'all (Bitches all up in my business) I can't fuck with y'all (Industry of counterfeits) I can't fuck with y'all Look at my life, then look at yours Get some ambition, why you bored? Time will never wait on no man Society will never hold your hand Niggas like to gossip like bitches Got me thinking you don't like bitches Wonder what's behind them Ray Bans Eyes of a coward, I understand Niggas like to gossip like bitches Sip Dom Pérignon, when we finish, we say R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P., yep R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P., yep That's exactly what this sound like But never will I ever forget Left Eye Roll up, put a ribbon in the sky And a button on your lips, don't blow my high Smoking out, pouring up, keep that lean up in my cup All my car got leather and wood, in my hood we call it buck Everybody wanna ball, holla at broads at the mall If he up, watch him fall, I can't fuck with y'all (Pussy ass hoe niggas) I can't fuck with y'all (Bitches all up in my business) I can't fuck with y'all (Industry of counterfeits) I can't fuck with y'all Now everybody sing this shit I'm sending him a four-page letter And I enclose it with a kiss (a kiss) And when I write him, he better Get it on time Look at my life and look at yours Get some ambition, why you bored? R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P. R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P. R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P. R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P.

If there's a goal that everyone remembers It was back in old seventy two We all squeezed the stick and we all pulled the trigger And all I remember is sitting beside you You said you didn't give a fuck about hockey And I never saw someone say that before You held my hand and we walked home the long way You were loosening my grip on Bobby Orr Isn't it amazing anything's accomplished When the little sensation gets in your way Not one ambition whispering over your shoulder Isn't it amazing you can do anything We hung out together every single moment 'Cause that's what we thought married people do Complete with the grip of artificial chaos And believing in the country of me and you Crisis of faith and crisis in the Kremlin And, yeah, we'd heard all that before It's wintertime, the house is solitude with options And loosening the grip on a fake cold war Isn't it amazing what you can accomplish When you don't let the nation get in your way And not one ambition whispering over your shoulder Isn't it amazing you can do anything Next to your comrades in the National Fitness Program Caught in some eternal flexed arm hang Dropping to the mat in a fit of laughter Showed no patience, tolerance or restraint Fireworks exploding in the distance Temporary towers soar Fireworks emulating heaven Till there are no stars any more Fireworks aiming straight at heaven Temporary towers soar Till there are no stars shining up in heaven Till there are no stars any more Isn't it amazing what you can accomplish When the little sensation gets in your way No ambition whispering over your shoulder Isn't it amazing what you can accomplish This one thing probably never goes away I think this one thing is always supposed to stay This one thing doesn't have to go away

Got a window washer's head For an unmakeable bed For loneliness The past is no place to- Rest your weary arms 'cept at sevens at your sides Your face a campaign debt reflected sky You die to your fans one window at a time, that's right Got a window washer's eye For an untuckable sky For lonely design The past is no place to- Try but I'll get my mind's armies moving at full stride They're singing in one voice, preoccupied And with nothing to say I'll sing it bright, that's right I am here, it's only me I ain't freed nobody yet It's just me, I'll just be a sec I'm a cleaner, I'm no threat No threat, no threat I'm a reader, I'm no threat Who sings lonely? Everyone sings lonely It doesn't sound so bad Who is free? Everybody's freed From the tired of being sad, so sad How will I know? How will I know if I'm helping? More so, how will she know if I'm helping? If I'm not in the saddle, I'm nothing, that's right I am here, it's only me I ain't freed nobody yet It's just me, clearing spider webs I'm a listener, I'm no threat I am here, failed and failing breath I'm a listener, I'm no threat No threat, no threat I'm a watcher, I'm no threat No threat (I am a Beatles fan)