Whiplash Lyrics
| Song | Whiplash |
| Artist | Kero One |
| Album | Color Theory |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [Verse 1] | |
| Post alma mater, trying to get dollars, right out of college | |
| With a collar on starving like Ramadan for something solid | |
| I'm getting off work about 8 pm, grab a little bite and embrace a pen | |
| Make a couple beats, inside my den, wake up in the a.m., do it all again | |
| Friends, I had them but they too busy chasing them ladies | |
| Money gone, what a con, when drinks equals Mercedes | |
| I'd rather demolish a song | |
| I made in two nights with a new mic from not getting my baller on | |
| Smashing into the scene with my flow | |
| They blasting my beats in headphones | |
| Packing up seats in each row | |
| Cause passion is unleashed each show | |
| (Wake up!) And that's when I snapped out of a dream in a corporate meeting | |
| (Wake up!) drooling, snoozing, heavy, breathing, forget it, I'm leaving | |
| Yo boss, I'm going to take off this evening to enjoy the weekend | |
| Maxing out CC's, crafting CD's until I'm eating | |
| Even if my tanks on "E" and the banks own me | |
| With that 20% APR my graveyard through laboring | |
| [Hook] | |
| Whiplash, whiplash, energy out, it got to come back! | |
| [Verse 2] | |
| Sometimes I drop to my knees, praise God who set my soul free | |
| But I never got a spoon feed, hustling like its all on me | |
| With an appetite that’s out of sight, like every night just grabbed the mic | |
| Burned demos, instrumentals, self assembled in my bedroom | |
| Stacks of CD's, passed 'em freely, play on TV, wasn't easy | |
| No Youtube, to allow you or school you with how to's none to teach me | |
| Feel me? asking every homie if they'd film me, but don’t bill me | |
| My video budget was rubbish, publicists would milk me | |
| Emptied my pockets silly really nonetheless we needed press | |
| CD's were pressed, off my own debt, no regrets to kill me | |
| Keeping it professional, at all times, when I was small time | |
| From call times to interviews of all kinds even those that grilled me | |
| Fundamentally its that energy I put out that made enemies or friends to me | |
| Propelling me up with more feet then a centipede | |
| Sending me, towards finer things from flyering my own | |
| Shows, to inspiring those aspiring to go pro with flows bro... | |
| [Hook] | |
| Whiplash, whiplash, energy out, it got to come back! |
| Verse 1 | |
| Post alma mater, trying to get dollars, right out of college | |
| With a collar on starving like Ramadan for something solid | |
| I' m getting off work about 8 pm, grab a little bite and embrace a pen | |
| Make a couple beats, inside my den, wake up in the a. m., do it all again | |
| Friends, I had them but they too busy chasing them ladies | |
| Money gone, what a con, when drinks equals Mercedes | |
| I' d rather demolish a song | |
| I made in two nights with a new mic from not getting my baller on | |
| Smashing into the scene with my flow | |
| They blasting my beats in headphones | |
| Packing up seats in each row | |
| Cause passion is unleashed each show | |
| Wake up! And that' s when I snapped out of a dream in a corporate meeting | |
| Wake up! drooling, snoozing, heavy, breathing, forget it, I' m leaving | |
| Yo boss, I' m going to take off this evening to enjoy the weekend | |
| Maxing out CC' s, crafting CD' s until I' m eating | |
| Even if my tanks on " E" and the banks own me | |
| With that 20 APR my graveyard through laboring | |
| Hook | |
| Whiplash, whiplash, energy out, it got to come back! | |
| Verse 2 | |
| Sometimes I drop to my knees, praise God who set my soul free | |
| But I never got a spoon feed, hustling like its all on me | |
| With an appetite that' s out of sight, like every night just grabbed the mic | |
| Burned demos, instrumentals, self assembled in my bedroom | |
| Stacks of CD' s, passed ' em freely, play on TV, wasn' t easy | |
| No Youtube, to allow you or school you with how to' s none to teach me | |
| Feel me? asking every homie if they' d film me, but don' t bill me | |
| My video budget was rubbish, publicists would milk me | |
| Emptied my pockets silly really nonetheless we needed press | |
| CD' s were pressed, off my own debt, no regrets to kill me | |
| Keeping it professional, at all times, when I was small time | |
| From call times to interviews of all kinds even those that grilled me | |
| Fundamentally its that energy I put out that made enemies or friends to me | |
| Propelling me up with more feet then a centipede | |
| Sending me, towards finer things from flyering my own | |
| Shows, to inspiring those aspiring to go pro with flows bro... | |
| Hook | |
| Whiplash, whiplash, energy out, it got to come back! |
| Verse 1 | |
| Post alma mater, trying to get dollars, right out of college | |
| With a collar on starving like Ramadan for something solid | |
| I' m getting off work about 8 pm, grab a little bite and embrace a pen | |
| Make a couple beats, inside my den, wake up in the a. m., do it all again | |
| Friends, I had them but they too busy chasing them ladies | |
| Money gone, what a con, when drinks equals Mercedes | |
| I' d rather demolish a song | |
| I made in two nights with a new mic from not getting my baller on | |
| Smashing into the scene with my flow | |
| They blasting my beats in headphones | |
| Packing up seats in each row | |
| Cause passion is unleashed each show | |
| Wake up! And that' s when I snapped out of a dream in a corporate meeting | |
| Wake up! drooling, snoozing, heavy, breathing, forget it, I' m leaving | |
| Yo boss, I' m going to take off this evening to enjoy the weekend | |
| Maxing out CC' s, crafting CD' s until I' m eating | |
| Even if my tanks on " E" and the banks own me | |
| With that 20 APR my graveyard through laboring | |
| Hook | |
| Whiplash, whiplash, energy out, it got to come back! | |
| Verse 2 | |
| Sometimes I drop to my knees, praise God who set my soul free | |
| But I never got a spoon feed, hustling like its all on me | |
| With an appetite that' s out of sight, like every night just grabbed the mic | |
| Burned demos, instrumentals, self assembled in my bedroom | |
| Stacks of CD' s, passed ' em freely, play on TV, wasn' t easy | |
| No Youtube, to allow you or school you with how to' s none to teach me | |
| Feel me? asking every homie if they' d film me, but don' t bill me | |
| My video budget was rubbish, publicists would milk me | |
| Emptied my pockets silly really nonetheless we needed press | |
| CD' s were pressed, off my own debt, no regrets to kill me | |
| Keeping it professional, at all times, when I was small time | |
| From call times to interviews of all kinds even those that grilled me | |
| Fundamentally its that energy I put out that made enemies or friends to me | |
| Propelling me up with more feet then a centipede | |
| Sending me, towards finer things from flyering my own | |
| Shows, to inspiring those aspiring to go pro with flows bro... | |
| Hook | |
| Whiplash, whiplash, energy out, it got to come back! |
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