if my hair kinda sucks, just like, don't tell me (Cover)

Chrometrash

Crybaby Ghost

Chrometrash

post-punk, new wave, dream pop

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Original Lyrics and song by The Badfatler.

https://suno.com/song/d8b21df3-dbac-4bb9-b26d-aa7a7def122e

Reimagined through a post-punk, dream-goth lens by Crybaby Ghost. I was struck with deep admiration for The Badfatler’s original. Some songs feel like they were written for you, raw, funny, and human in all the right ways. So I had to cover it. Same bones, new bones, same soul. Just seen through different light. Be sure to catch the original on Bad's page.

rolled out at noon, monster on the dresser,
Peeped the mirror; “eh, whatever.”
two swipes of paste, part line playing shy,
threw on a jacket that refuses to die.
old mixtape aura, thrift-store leather,
hair played jazz with the wicked wack weather.
homie caught a glimpse in the elevator chrome,
looked away smooth; guess nothing was wrong.

i ain’t seeking notes or a panel,
no think pieces on the channel.
if it’s mid, keep it friendly,
nod once, lemme think it looks trendy.

if my hair kinda sucks, just like, don’t tell me,
think it’s indie-luxe, it looks mad healthy.
gotta be cool beans, gotta be ready,
yeah alright, shh, don’t tell me.
thumbs up, small smile, leave it obscure,
No “that’s a choice,” no “o.k. sure.”
gotta be cool beans, gotta be ready,
yeah alright, shh, don’t tell me.

late cut last week from a barber named joe,
we talked about bands and the price of the show.
bro botched the fade, said “trust the grow out,”
dude, i’m a step ahead, ain’t afraid to go out
rideshare lobby, hallway light harsh,
front camera cruel like middle school march.
if you spot a strand or two staging a coup,
respect the drip, karen, keep passing through.

no audits, no charts, no coaching,
i’m off the clock, i’m coasting.
see, it’s easy, elementary;
minimal truth, maximum energy.

if my hair kinda sucks, just like, don’t tell me,
low-effort art that defies the many.
laugh and catch these hands, straight casus belli,
yeah alright, just don’t tell me.
thumbs up, small smile, leave it obscure,
no “that’s a choice,” no “o.k. sure.”
laugh and catch these hands, straight casus belli,
yeah alright, just don’t tell me.

cap on, late checkout, we’re fine.
no speeches, no hotline.
rate it eight and keep moving.
mood just keeps improving.

bad hair day
(he's aight, it'll be ok)
what went wrong
(nothing, that’s the song)

if my hair kinda sucks, just like, don’t tell me,
downtown plain, but i won’t be salty.
play it off, make it inconsequential,
cool, essential, existential.
thumbs up, small smile, leave it obscure,
no “that’s a choice,” no “o.k. sure.”
downtown plain, but i won’t be salty,
yeah alright, don’t tell me.

L.E.D. glare when i get back home,
finally fix the part wit a switchblade comb.
if it lands, it lands, if it fails, it fails,
bad hair, big mood; chill vibes prevail..

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

2881/7500

Original Lyrics and song by The Badfatler. https://suno.com/song/d8b21df3-dbac-4bb9-b26d-aa7a7def122e Reimagined through a post-punk, dream-goth lens by Crybaby Ghost. I was struck with deep admiration for The Badfatler’s original. Some songs feel like they were written for you, raw, funny, and human in all the right ways. So I had to cover it. Same bones, new bones, same soul. Just seen through different light. Be sure to catch the original on Bad's page. rolled out at noon, monster on the dresser, Peeped the mirror; “eh, whatever.” two swipes of paste, part line playing shy, threw on a jacket that refuses to die. old mixtape aura, thrift-store leather, hair played jazz with the wicked wack weather. homie caught a glimpse in the elevator chrome, looked away smooth; guess nothing was wrong. i ain’t seeking notes or a panel, no think pieces on the channel. if it’s mid, keep it friendly, nod once, lemme think it looks trendy. if my hair kinda sucks, just like, don’t tell me, think it’s indie-luxe, it looks mad healthy. gotta be cool beans, gotta be ready, yeah alright, shh, don’t tell me. thumbs up, small smile, leave it obscure, No “that’s a choice,” no “o.k. sure.” gotta be cool beans, gotta be ready, yeah alright, shh, don’t tell me. late cut last week from a barber named joe, we talked about bands and the price of the show. bro botched the fade, said “trust the grow out,” dude, i’m a step ahead, ain’t afraid to go out rideshare lobby, hallway light harsh, front camera cruel like middle school march. if you spot a strand or two staging a coup, respect the drip, karen, keep passing through. no audits, no charts, no coaching, i’m off the clock, i’m coasting. see, it’s easy, elementary; minimal truth, maximum energy. if my hair kinda sucks, just like, don’t tell me, low-effort art that defies the many. laugh and catch these hands, straight casus belli, yeah alright, just don’t tell me. thumbs up, small smile, leave it obscure, no “that’s a choice,” no “o.k. sure.” laugh and catch these hands, straight casus belli, yeah alright, just don’t tell me. cap on, late checkout, we’re fine. no speeches, no hotline. rate it eight and keep moving. mood just keeps improving. bad hair day (he's aight, it'll be ok) what went wrong (nothing, that’s the song) if my hair kinda sucks, just like, don’t tell me, downtown plain, but i won’t be salty. play it off, make it inconsequential, cool, essential, existential. thumbs up, small smile, leave it obscure, no “that’s a choice,” no “o.k. sure.” downtown plain, but i won’t be salty, yeah alright, don’t tell me. L.E.D. glare when i get back home, finally fix the part wit a switchblade comb. if it lands, it lands, if it fails, it fails, bad hair, big mood; chill vibes prevail.. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ © 2025 The Badfatler All rights reserved.

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