Basement - Bastille/F. Strokes/F-U-G-Z

Greyhound Megabus clothes in a plastic bag

From shelter to shelter

Six kids with no dad

She left the city for a better life

Ran to a small town where the population was mostly white

Racial undertones trying to get back home

With barely enough to keep shirts on my backbone

Now ain't this real life

Numb to what pain feel like

Demons knocking like the sound of steel pipes

Same lady who gave birth

Never left my hometown

But she the reason I travelled the earth

Locked the door my uncle's going through her purse

Wake your brother up they're giving free meals at church

And I can't justify

How my day could black your eye

Now my sister can't trust a guy

We never had much

But we had us

And my brother found home in a pair of handcuffs

How am I gonna get myself back home

Ayyyyy ayyyyy I

The sound of bullets bounce as I write raps in the kitchen

Daddy in a cell trying to hold his ambition

Witness the transition from a boy to a martyr

Sell d**e but go to school to be a barber

The ghetto's like a prison

You locked but you still living

Barely breathing up until if you're leaving

But home is where the hate is

And my cousin ain't thirty yet

But she's got eight kids

Half look up to me

But the other half

Rarely f**k with me

'Cause apparently

They think I see myself as better

I see my songs as simply therapy

Now let's go back to that whole Greyhound bus bit

Mama worked there for old white folks wiping up sh*t

Tryna save ships

Now close your eyes and envision

How she turned a bus ride

Into a spaceship

How am I gonna get myself back home

Ayyyyyy ayyyyy I

Oh

How am I gonna get myself back home

Ayyyyyy ayyyyy I

My home is comprised of many elements

Grandaddy was a junkie and

Found home in a needle filled with daily medicine

Home is far less based on physicality

But embracing the mentality

That you can turn even the harshest

Conditions into an optimistic galaxy

Come home daddy

It's okay now

All the tears are dried up mama's in a better place now

No guns unless they're video games

And if you don't deside

To sex rock and roll and c*****e

Come home

Ahhhhhyyyyyy ohh

How am I gonna get myself back home

Ayyyyy ayyyyyy I

How am I gonna get myself back home

Ayyyyy ayyyyy I

From the basement

To the ceiling

Going back home

To replace this feeling

From the basement

To the ceiling

Going back home

To replace this feeling