Uploaded November 2020 | Updated September 2026, 49 seconds ago
Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.
From: Dogrel (2019)
Lyrics:
None can pull the passion loose from youth's ungrateful hands
As it stands, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps in the pan
None can revolution lead with selfish needs aside
As I cried, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps on the side
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real?
The winter evening settles down
The bruised and beat up open sky, six o'clock
The city in its final dress
And now a gusty shower wraps the grimy scraps
Of withered leaves all about your feet
And then the ringing of a twitching hand
Six o'clock, six o'clock
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real?
None can pull the passion loose from youth's ungrateful hands
As it stands, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps in the pan
None can revolution lead with selfish needs aside
As I climbed, I'm about to make a lot of money
Goes around and around and around
Oh yeah, boya!
Is it too real for ya?
Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.
From: Dogrel (2019)
Lyrics:
None can pull the passion loose from youth's ungrateful hands
As it stands, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps in the pan
None can revolution lead with selfish needs aside
As I cried, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps on the side
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real?
The winter evening settles down
The bruised and beat up open sky, six o'clock
The city in its final dress
And now a gusty shower wraps the grimy scraps
Of withered leaves all about your feet
And then the ringing of a twitching hand
Six o'clock, six o'clock
Is it too real for ya?
Is it too real?
None can pull the passion loose from youth's ungrateful hands
As it stands, I'm about to make a lot of money
Gold harps in the pan
None can revolution lead with selfish needs aside
As I climbed, I'm about to make a lot of money
Goes around and around and around
Oh yeah, boya!
Is it too real for ya?
