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In Her Music Box Lyrics

Artist: Atmosphere
Album: When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold

She had a bad dream in the backseat
The same one as yesterday,
The same one as last week
Surrounded by her favorite favorites
Elmo, Barbie, her purple baby blanket
And that little matchbox that looks like just like dad's car
It's fast on the leather, pretends its Nascar
It jumps over Elmo cause it can fly that far
With Daddy in the front seat frontin like a rap star
Hey girl oh girl Daddy's the greatest
He knows the words to everything on the radio playlist
He fakes the accent, even makes all the faces
And when he raises his voice
It makes her feel like he's famous
Yea Poppa got his lean on
A mean one
Weavin down Lake street-tryin to get his scene on
Stoppin the whip to say somethin out the window
Bobbin his head to the beat on the radio
Good daddy won't smoke no weed
Until the Bass cradles her back to sleep
Then he can steak his Mack while she takes a nap
To the sweet pretty sounds of the gansta rap

The high hat to angels voices
They keep her distracted from the stranger's voices
Escape is a paradox, because a childhood is locked in that music box

Daddies drive around, Mommies work night shift
Sweet dreams, sleep little precious
Lay down in that music box
Escape in the sound of that music box

Daddies drive around, Mommies work night shift
Sweet dreams, sleep little precious
Lay down in that music box
Escape in the sound of that music box

Yea daddy knows people, he's important
The guy with the suit and tie they see at the court
And it seems like he ain't tryin to talk to police
But at the car wash they treat him like the star that she sees
They like poppa's big wheels
And the lollipop she gets makes her feel like a big deal
Not allowed to have it yet, gotta sit still
Like the toy that she knows is gonna come with the kids meal
She loves drive through food
Health conscious dad, he buys her the juice
A little sip of soda, builds the pride
Go ahead baby girl, don't spill those fries
Nuh uh poppa can't roll a messy office
Compulsive in the way she lay them napkins all across the seat
Never puts her feet up on the upholstery
Just kicks em side to side to the beat on the radio
She sings along like dad does
She knows all the words, but she leave out the bad ones
Except bitch-she always sings the word bitch
Cause it makes her daddy laugh, it's her magic trick
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 night shift
Sweet dreams, sleep little precious
Lay down in that music box
Escape in the sound of that music box

Daddies drive around, Mommies work night shift
Sweet dreams, sleep little precious
Lay down in that music box
Escape in the sound of that music box

--Turn that Buick off--
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