Good Daddy won't smoke no weed
Until the bass cradles her back to sleep
Then he can stake his mack while she takes a nap
To the sweet pretty sounds of the gangster rap
Shhh, the high hats are angel's voices
They keep her distracted
From the stranger's voices
Escape is a paradox
Because her childhood is locked in that music box
Daddies drive around, Mommies work nightshift
Sweet dreams, sweet little precious
Lay down in that music box
Escape in the sound of that music box
--------------------------
And when Daddy picks Mommy up they fight
They fight about money, they fight about life
So she concentrates so so hard on the music
And loses herself inside of the bass and the movement
Daddies drive around, Mommies work nightshift
Sweet dreams, sweet little precious
Lay down in that music box
Escape in the sound of that music box
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