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Produced by: The Alchemist |
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<Verse 1: Domo Genesis> |
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**** it two tears in a bucket |
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Cause these ******* could never touch us |
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In the midst of the calm we bringin' ruckus |
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*****, it's nothing, end of discussion |
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I will be double clutching, leave a chump |
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Looking slump, give a punk a ******* concussion |
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Why you frontin' speakin' nothin' like a bad preacher |
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Rollin' mad tree while you camping over your last reefer |
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Catch me backseat, email-declining your rap features |
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Keep your beat and get your track ethered |
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***** careful what you rappin' for |
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I'm gunnin' at these rappers throats |
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I'm spittin' raw, I'mma kill'em all but I be laughin' though |
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Ashin' in a champagne glass cause I'm irrational |
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I'm showing ass, shorty's gettin' gassed at all the cash I blow |
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Again I'm passin' go laugh in a time of fashion |
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This rapper s**t is my passion, no actin' I make it happen |
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Look back at your wack reaction |
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Give me racks, 'bout to cash' em |
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The stacks, you can't imagine |
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Spark it and flash pass it |
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<Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt> |
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I am the coldest speakin', you are a ho that's decent |
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Lookin' to hold and squeeze, and I'm schemin' on dome and peacin' |
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Back to the olive garden, breaded like Paul McCartney |
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Beatle, and every time you see him know the armor sparkly |
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GNAW dog, he barking potty mouth, it's probably cotton |
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Closet full of army fatigue buckets and dirty Kostons |
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Flirtin' with the blunt before I lick it |
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She fillin' out her curves and she can serve as an apprentice |
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Rolling blunts, rollin' sleeves when I dirty up the ditches |
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And never servin' **** the week she finishes her sentence |
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*****, bet that rhetoric offensive like I'm |
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Yelling, never timid; this the Frigidaire freezer s**t |
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Feel the glare heating s**t, Golf Wang leader pick |
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Burn trees: cedars, piss off, flipped cross |
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Put the three in six, tight as skin when the needle p***k |
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O-F, never present tense, eat a ****, ***** |
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