Rat-level

It's the rat-level, pitch man song of the summer The kind that breaks and it stings like a something-or-other About a girl, or a car, or subliminal mother Smell that price, man, I'm dying, man, to buy what they're selling I get the Sunday scaries every day of the week And it grinds me down when I hear the voice speak It's a ton to ignore with no way to debrief You can spin your wheels but the deeper I'll sink I got a house and a yard in the middle of nowhere I have a wife and a dog and a half-a-kid somewhere I get the Sunday scaries every day of the week And it grinds me down when I hear the voice speak Yeah the money's alright, I guess that's a relief I learned to love the bomb now the bomb loves me Oh now We have a lot to remember We have a lot to remember It's the rat-level, pitch man song of the summer The kind that breaks and it stings like a something-or-other About a girl, or a car, or subliminal mother Smell that price, man, I'm dying, man, to buy what they're selling