MACHINE GUN KELLY


On My Way Lyrics

Okay, now they say home is where the hate is
Pulling up high haters
I know, I've been on a high A test, caught up in the
lights, I've been drowned by Las Vegas.
Ain't it ironic? Before I was 21 I put my future on the
table and I won
See, they told me life's a gamble, now this is my
casino
Make sure my fellows good, now I'm Robert DeNiro,
Sipping cleco with the girl that held me down from the
beginning,
My team throwing up Ls, but it's funny, 'cause we're
winning,
A million talked down, soon as I rose from the bottom,
But opinions ass holes now, everybody got 'em.

So they ask me why I do it, I do it for the streets
Heard mama got out the cradle, man, I do it for the
greeds,
Man, I do it for the five pack of hanes wife beats
That I wore like everyday to show off my brand new ink
Shit I remember working jobs so I just can hit the
dance up,
Never had a date, so I really didn't dance much.
Couldn't buy my own, so I just borrowed my dad's tux,
Told him keep the loafer, kept it gully with my black
chucks.
So we could keep watching the stars, but me, I wanna be
'em
And I just beat the odds, guess we can call it even
'Cause he the underdog went from flipping patties at a
Fuddruckers
To living lavish than a motherf**ker, God damn.

Okay, I heard they want the classics, my life's a movie
like the Truman Show, without the cameras.
They look at us like we're a couple boys in the hood,
Throw brothers to the end like them boys in the wood.
So I light it up for the Friday night lights with the
team
And a notebook, call it Requiem for a dream.
I was super bad in the class, I just dazed off,
So I play sick and lived ferris bueller day off.
Back in Coolie high students used to nickname us the
Goonies
Every night we blacked out, shit, they should've called
us roofies.
Get out the bed, half baked, roll another doobie,
So many snacks up in the house, they call it crib
Scooby.
Blow an oiee and man, man I swear this is good as it
gets,
Godfather told me keep doing that music shit.
He said your piece of the American pie is waiting
From the bottom to the top, almost famous, Kells.

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Songwriter(s): Richard Baker, Graham Edwards, Jonathan Bishop, Irvin Whitlow, Trevor Easher, David Scott Alspach, Lauren Christy, Jordan Brownwood, Marc Oliver Gould
Publisher(s): Wixen Music Uk Ltd. (PRS), For Casie Publishing LLC, Primary Wave Edwards, Primary Wave Brian

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