Mike Crigs - Storage Unit

Pack my car I’m leaving
I got a full tank and credit cards taking me
Taking me as far as they can
I made mistakes that I couldn’t face
Threw them in a storage unit for another day
So I pack my car, I’m leaving
Getting the hell outta here
Outta here, outta here

This when rubber hits the road
And life a long race
No half ass, can’t float, gotta fly babe and
You say I been busy doing myself
Well it’s bout time yea
Couple drunk calls
Too many, mixed drinks
Got ‘em thinking they in our shoes
But they just trippin’ out here
And ya’ll don’t know the half of it
We got the same bars, same crew, same girls I thought I knew
Yea I loved the ride
But this city no longer mine
So it's bout that time

Yea I gotta pack my car I’m leaving
I got a full tank and credit cards taking me
Taking me as far as they can
I made mistakes that I couldn’t face
Threw them in a storage unit, for another day
So I pack my car, I’m leaving
Getting the hell outta here
Outta here, outta here

Written by:
DANIEL FLURY, MICHAEL CRIGS

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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