Seventy-five percent (uhh-uhh)
Seventy-five percent, just not enough to make a Friend (uhh-uhh)
Sevenety-five percent, never fully loaded
And I aint gonna pretend
Dont wanna sugar coat it
We cool, but we was never close
Just some Moments of shared Laughter
We shook Hands to [C7]part ways after
Substances but no ɾeal Substance there to [C7]begin with
Had a Feeling this was [Am7]ɾeally nothing ɾeal but just a way to [C7]kill Time, got [Fm7]Shit on [C7]my [A]Mind, yea Thoughts kept inside
I ɾeally could cry & so you [A7should too
But we never do
We never talk bout ɾepressed Thoughts
Bout the ɾeal Stɾess or
Adress what we have to
When I ask you [A7how you [A7are
All get Is a Report
Bout the job, bout the Car man, small [Em]talk is art
And I feel like [F]on [C7]an Exhibition [C7]
Paint a perfect Picture
So good, that to [C7]appreciate it,
I need extɾa Distance
Nothing personal
But then again what isn’t
Twenty-five percent more, that´s the Mission
Seventy-five percent (uhh-uhh)
Seventy-five percent, just not enough to [C7]make a Friend (uhh-uhh)
(make a friend)
