I feel it for the first time I found a new place here I’m coming down fast I won’t break down tonight

We are anything When I return I dream of another life Failure transparent in the palm of my hand I am the contortionist We are the contortionists I can feel this distance is further and farther without you Contorting to fit somewhere I do not belong

Palms to the sky We rise tonight I feel it, and I feel it, and I feel fe-feel it This goes radioactive Drop the ball, let me feel the beat (Hey, take a look at you) You, you, you, you and I

My California king In this California king bed We're ten thousand miles apart I'll be California wishing on these stars For you're heart on me So how come when I reach out my finger Chest to chest Nose to nose Palm to palm

Feeling paranoid True enemy or false friend? I'm in trouble for the things I haven't got to yet Palms are getting wet, sweating bullets Feeling claustrophobic Like the walls are closing in Hello me, meet the real me And my misfit's way of life

And our silhouette up we could no longer see Sayin' we couldn't make it to Mexico We had our heavy hearts I, I was ready for Cancun (Bad bi- the candy, palm trees and sandy) Bad bi-, bad bi-, bad bi-, bad bi-, bad bi- Some candy, palm trees and sandy We

(For the Money) Money, for the money Kanye told me that Jesus walks in '04 But I grew up around impalas and drug lords Welcome to Los Angeles palm trees and drug stores All we know is rocks and presidents like Mount Rushmore

Cross the country, cross the country You may never been there, catch me cross the country Coca leaves and palm trees, we cross the country She don't understand English but she want me I had to get a Visa cause I'm in and out the country It's been a long

Charlie don't surf and we think he should Charlie don't surf and you know that it ain't no good Charlie don't surf for his hamburger Momma Charlie don't surf Charlie's gonna be a napalm star Everybody wants to rule the world Must be something we get from

Money in your palm don't make you real Pistol in your hand don't make you real Niggas been countin' me out I'm writin' down names, I'm makin' a list The real ones been dyin', the fake ones is lit The Bentley is dirty, my sneakers is dirty But that's how