Lyrics

Inna Kingston breeze or a London flat,
There’s a man with a blanket and a bedtime hat,
Calls himself Homie, but legend be forged,
In the tales of the night — him a Sleepy George.

He don’t dance much, nah, he don’t talk loud,
But when the lights go down, he’s lost in the clouds,
Staring at slumber with a curious grin,
Whisperin’ “dream well” as the sleep sets in.

Watch ya back, when ya takin’ a nap,
Homie be there with a nightcap and a map,
He ain’t doin’ harm, but it’s still kinda odd,
Sleepy George, the slumber squad god.

They say he once whispered to a snoring girl,
“REM cycle's smooth like a rasta curl,”
No rohypnol here, just melatonin tea,
He’s the bedtime bard of mystery.

He got a lavender diffuser and a robe so fine,
Reads Sleepytime tales like it’s storytime,
Creepy? Maybe. Dangerous? Nah.
Just a weirdo with a passion for the land of Zzz’s, yah.

Lock your doors, but not for fear,
Homie just wanna vibe when the dreams appear,
Mildly weird, but we love him still,
Sleepy George got bedtime skill.

Don’t get it twisted, he ain’t that guy,
He just loves to watch the moon go by,
Counting snores like sheep in the sky,
Riddim in his soul and a gleam in his eye.

So here’s to the homie who naps on the go,
With a bedtime playlist and a sleepy flow,
If you see him smilin’ at the twilight glow —
Just know it’s Sleepy George… takin’ it slow.