Streets Score - The Streets

Oi, oi, oi

Sometimes I look down, sometimes I look up, oi

Sometimes I look down, sometimes I look up

Oi, that’s it, oi, oi

I’m a fake, I don’t live the streets

But there’s only so many hours in a day

And I use 'em to make beats, oi

In the studio, immersed in, rehearsing my technique

I live loops, sleep snares and breathe beats

Then sit through, keep the best there and only leave to eat

Shut the door, pen and re-record the vocal just once more

And now you know why these walls are the only walls I ever saw

Call me The Quick Draw McGraw Show

But unlodge your cord, yeah, oi

Kind of like a street score, though not the genuine article

More facts packed in a soundtrack to the acting

In a film and I’m the lead

Believe me, in the tragedy scene, a tear ran down my cheeks

So cue the fairytale finale

Listen to the dialogue, but not too deep

Soak up the feeling, but don’t quote me, please

Incidentally, don’t worry about continuity

The person we hired to do that was relieved of their duties

Also, in the first scene, my jeans are green

But then they change mysteriously to cream

Again, bad continuity, but I still mean what I mean

I wear Nike a lot, my hoodie’s a tight Schott

But does my life sound as interesting as a fight in a chip shop?

I think not, the hype’s not to be believed

I ain’t the archetypal street geez

But I am right on being a beat junkie, oi

I gave up the fight for an easy life a long time ago

When the last bird dumped me

Buy me, get one studio free

I use words for effect to illustrate passion

The themes ring fact and specifics are usually fiction, oi, oi

I probably couldn’t tell you half of what

«Has It Come To This» means

I was simply setting a scene of concrete, not sky and green trees

I still hold the same hundred-feet-high dreams

But a lot of things scare me, though

I think I read somewhere recently that fear is a useless feeling

Because I can’t run to where I’m heading

Without running from where I was, it’s all because

Where I’m from is not the issue, this is my imagination

I don’t sing the blues or feel fever

Which, by definition, ain’t spoken truth either

It floats around places I’ve never even been to

So don’t lean toward the door at four

Just as the dance floor gets raw

Some of the things this tour makes out I’d done, been or did

Wasn’t me, I weren’t the one, I’d only seen it

I was always too zoned out on drum machine shit

To worry about the day-to-day out in the dosh pit, oi, oi

Flip the 12-inch, this is the original mix, called

«Maybe My Sarcastic Brick Twist Daunting Will Be My Downfall», oi

Suddenly I’m defined by my lyrical

So I apologise for being so self-obsessed on this tune as

Let’s get back to the story, soon as

The Streets, the score

Tell me what you think it is, 'cause I don’t know anymore