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Kt Foriegn  Seven To Seven.mp3

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Verse 1
Backseat of a rideshare, eyelids made of lead,
Beat ideas on strike, melody still in bed.
Phone notes full of nothing, coffee cold and thin,
Guess I’m clocking in to fake a song again.

Pre-Chorus
Tap the desk, count four, pray for any spark,
Sing a maybe-maybe in the Monday-dark.
If humming is a paycheck, I’ll cash it now,
One lazy la-la’s gotta be allowed.

Chorus
Do I gotta, do I gotta write this now?
Can we call this humming good enough somehow?
La-la-later I could make it big and loud,
Do I gotta, do I gotta? Fine—I’ll sing it out.
Do I gotta, do I gotta? Fine—I’ll sing it out.

Verse 2
Genre roulette spinning, pop or blues or funk,
Try a synth, delete it—back to empty trunk.
Metronome is nagging, ticking like a debt,
I rhyme “tired” with “wired,” best I’m gonna get.

Pre-Chorus
Mumble in a circle till a line feels right,
Glue two scraps together, hope they hold tonight.
If rhythm is a ladder, I’ll climb one rung,
Fake it till it’s sung, yeah—fake it till it’s sung.

Chorus
Do I gotta, do I gotta write this now?
Can we call this humming good enough somehow?
La-la-later I could make it big and loud,
Do I gotta, do I gotta? Fine—I’ll sing it out.
Do I gotta, do I gotta? Fine—I’ll sing it out.

Bridge
Uh-oh, chorus finished, but the page ain’t done,
Who ordered extra verses? I just wanted one.
Stretch a “yeah,” add “baby,” buy another bar,
Turn a sigh to a hook, we’re halfway to a star.

Verse 3
Blinking cursor bossing, “Hey, you got more lines?”
I toss in “oohs” and “ahhs” like nickels, dimes, and fines.
Melody’s a treadmill, I’m jogging in my head,
But slow steps count, so I’ll keep them steady-tread.

Breakdown
Mm-mm, la-la, not much left to say,
Da-da, sha-la, push the doubts away.
Clap once, clap twice, nod along in time,
If the words are sleepy, let the groove be fine.

Chorus
Do I gotta, do I gotta write this now?
Can we call this humming good enough somehow?
La-la-later I could make it big and loud,
Do I gotta, do I gotta? Fine—I’ll sing it out.
Do I gotta, do I gotta? Fine—I’ll sing it out.

Verse 4
Look, a little daylight sneaking through the blinds,
A second wind is jogging, catching up behind.
Started out reluctant, dragging feet and rhyme,
Still we built a chorus that can keep the time.

Final Chorus
Guess I gotta, guess I gotta—there, it’s done,
From a grumpy heartbeat to a sing-along run.
La-la-later, I might even feel proud,
Guess I gotta, guess I gotta—hey, we sang it loud.
Guess I gotta, guess I gotta—yeah, we sang it loud.

Outro
Punch out, close the notebook, let the echoes fade,
If tomorrow begs for verses, maybe I’ll get paid.
Yawn, wave, hit the light, leave the studio’s glow,
Didn’t want to write it—still, I gave it a go.

Punch-Clock Chorus

Money on my mind so it’s hard for me to miss you

Mr P - Playrunn3r

Nunutella

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