Won’t Go Quietly

[Verse 1]
Her hair in her bun, apron was dirty
She hated the job that made her so perky
The labor, the tables, the waits and the hurry
She never revision the waitress at 30
She finished her last shift, filled up the coffeepot
Grabbed her guitar case, head out the coffee shop
Voice of a Joplin, pitch in the rain
Jump on stage, she could play like a kid in the rain
But she was small town, no one that her major would push
Swift move by a label that could tailor her look
Not her, no sir, she be buried in debt
And still married before being a marionette
But she was scared and she wanted to go back a page
‘Cause the industry was pushing women half her age
She told her manager that she had to catch a plane
She ain’t working Saturday; L.A. bound, she’s headed thataway

[Chorus]
Da da da da, da da da da
No, you can’t tell me nada
We gon’ make it ‘cause we gotta
Da da da da da da da
So what’s Gucci and what’s Prada?
No, you can’t tell me nada
We gon’ make it ‘cause we gotta
Da da da da da da da

[Verse 2]
Thanks for the gift, he thought, sips pinot
Laughs as he opens the bag of crisp Fritos
YOLO right? That’s the younger kid’s credo
You fine wine now, you turning to big 3-O
But he couldn’t help skimming through his notepad
Snapback got him thinking this is old hat
Cole raps, but he maybe need a bigger pawn - TV, dinners, the mic that he’d been living on
He had the hunger of a young Jay
Trapped in the cubicle, rap only doable on his lunch brake
The same shows, the same fans, the same sets
The same van that hasn’t seen a date yet
Now he wanted to go back a page
When he was 15, the height of his I-wanna-be-a-rapper-phase
Quit his job for his happy place, he’d just had to catch a plane
New York bound; he’s headed thataway

[Chorus]
Da da da da, da da da da
No, you can’t tell me nada
We gon’ make it ‘cause we gotta
Da da da da da da da
So what’s Gucci and what’s Prada?
No, you can’t tell me nada
We gon’ make it ‘cause we gotta
Da da da da da da da

[Verse 3]
The parties, the clubs. Performance and shows
Drugs and the alcohol, tours in the road
The women, the groupies, lord only knows
Everyday he’s in warrior mode
He never had a set of options
Before his voice cracked, his voice cracked the top ten
They made him overnight, right in front of our eyes
And television shows put him on a cover of Vibe
He was tired of the industry and politics
He want to settle with the family and call it quits
He missed home, the person he was formally
He missed small town regular and normalcy
Now all he wants to do was just go back a page
Before the market turned him into a scatterbrain
He told his manager, he won’t be in Adelaide
He has gotta catch a plane. Homeward bound; he’s headed thataway

[Chorus]
Da da da da, da da da da
No, you can’t tell me nada
We gon’ make it ‘cause we gotta
Da da da da da da da
So what’s Gucci and what’s Prada?
No, you can’t tell me nada
We gon’ make it ‘cause we gotta
Da da da da da da da