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Standing Ovation - Jeffrey Foucault



     
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Standing Ovation Lyrics


I told 'em straight, drop this an' zip lock that
Right on my waistline is where I kept that strap
I remember nights, I didn't remember nights
I damn near went crazy, had to get it right
Now I'm ya favorite rapper's favorite rapper
Now I'm ya favorite trapper's favorite trapper
The absolute truth, yeah, I'm no joke
Who me? I emerge from the crack smoked
In the hearts of those who grind with O's
They feel my pain, they at my shows
That's why I got this glass pot an' this triple bean
I tell 'em 'Money Talks' like Charlie Sheen
These are more than words, this is more than rap
This is the streets an' I am the trap
Standing ovation, standing ovation
These are more than words, this is more than rap
This is the streets an' I am the trap
Standing ovation, standing ovation

Once upon a time, I used to grind all night
With that residue that was iPod white
I'm a boss, I got Juice like the magazine
An' everyday I see Feds like a magazine
Psychopathic wordplay, schizophrenic flow
I guess it's safe to say I got schizophrenic dough
Fuck bad bitches, smoke big blunts
Who am I to tell ya different? Ya only live once
All I blow is Kush, yeah, that Cali bud
Got Cali love when I got that Cali glove
My Spanish bitch in L.A., yeah, I owe her one
Not them square seventeen like Uncle Brady's son
These are more than words, this is more than rap
This is the streets an' I am the trap
Standing ovation, standing ovation
These are more than words, this is more than rap
This is the streets an' I am the trap
Standing ovation, standing ovation
My brains pulse through my veins, man, I can't understand it
Infatuation with the birds, I watch Animal Planet
My life's a motion picture in Dolby Digital
Tree raiser an' the scale, it was digital
Calculate my every step, I'm a mathematician
Make them pigeons disappear, I'm a damn magician
A 40 cal, rubber bands an' a shoe box
Run through a hundred grand watchin' [Incomprehensible]
Got it by the truckload like the bread people
I got a 'Sixth Sense', I stack dead people
I'm talkin' Grants an' Jacksons
Swear, it took a whole hour just to count the Jacksons
These are more than words, this is more than rap
This is the streets an' I am the trap
Standing ovation, standing ovation
These are more than words, this is more than rap
This is the streets an' I am the trap
Standing ovation, standing ovation

Enjoy the lyrics !!!

Jeffrey Foucault (born January 1976 in Janesville, Wisconsin) is an American singer-songwriter grown out of the americana/folk troubadour tradition. Foucault's musical career was seeded at seventeen, when he began playing John Prine tunes on his father's beat up mail-order guitar, and spent long evenings in his bedroom, spinning piles of old records on a hand-me-down turntable. When he was 18 he stole a copy of Townes Van Zandt: Live and Obscure from a friend, and a few years later, having quit school to work as a farm-hand and a house-carpenter Foucault turned to writing songs.


Read more about Jeffrey Foucault on Last.fm.


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Jeffrey Foucault