Earl Sweatshirt - Molasses
Дата добавления: 05 сентября 2017
Формат: mp3
Исполнители: Earl Sweatshirt
Битрейт: 320 Kbps
Размер: 5.21 Mb
Продолжительность: 02:16
Просмотры: 1
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Текст песни
[Intro: RZA]
Search inside my purse to buy something worthless.
[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]
99 problems all gone in that one joint,
And the neck gold froze like he held it at gunpoint.
I'm a bubble in the belly of the monster,
With a duffel full of troubles, trunk rattle in the Mazda,
Ragged with the contra, phantom of the opera,
And I'm standin' on the cop's truck, stackin' for the long run.
The bags packed, roadside with the thumb out,
Toe tagged, don't gag, spit your gum out.
Nomadic, chrome-grabbin' when it's danger,
I'm a manger-born puppy, holdin' flight like a hangar do.
Knife to the trachea, spit scabies and bet,
The label don't like me, but they pay me a grip.
And you see how his day goin' by the state of his wrists,
Ya niggas busy Play-Dohin', bet the baker came swingin' like,
‘What the fuck you sayin'?' All that aiming and miss.
Imma fuck the freckles off your bitch, nigga.
[Hook: RZA]
I'll fuck the freckles off your face, bitch!
We could do this shit all night.
I'll fuck the freckles off your face, bitch!
[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
You know me, drugs out, front the telly,
I'm couch-drunk and ready to fuck, count fetti and bucks.
Pack loud as that slap ‘cross the belly.
What's up? Fuck nigga, what's up?
I'm at the deli schemin' on a Fanta and a Camel Crush,
Screamin', ‘Saddle up!' Like, fuck is beef? Get your cattle cut, pansy!
If them fans only local, why them flights transatlantied up?
The rice and patty's cooked, nice for the chancellor,
Them teeth with the gold bright, the light switches mad at us,
Snapchattin' panty clad baddies, I'm a bachelor.
I'm high and polite ‘cause police is in back of us,
And write with the same hand I smack ‘em up with.
Stretchin' out the fifteen I had initially,
Icky Thump, sticky kush lit up in a rental Jeep.
We could do this shit all night.
[Hook]
Search inside my purse to buy something worthless.
[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]
99 problems all gone in that one joint,
And the neck gold froze like he held it at gunpoint.
I'm a bubble in the belly of the monster,
With a duffel full of troubles, trunk rattle in the Mazda,
Ragged with the contra, phantom of the opera,
And I'm standin' on the cop's truck, stackin' for the long run.
The bags packed, roadside with the thumb out,
Toe tagged, don't gag, spit your gum out.
Nomadic, chrome-grabbin' when it's danger,
I'm a manger-born puppy, holdin' flight like a hangar do.
Knife to the trachea, spit scabies and bet,
The label don't like me, but they pay me a grip.
And you see how his day goin' by the state of his wrists,
Ya niggas busy Play-Dohin', bet the baker came swingin' like,
‘What the fuck you sayin'?' All that aiming and miss.
Imma fuck the freckles off your bitch, nigga.
[Hook: RZA]
I'll fuck the freckles off your face, bitch!
We could do this shit all night.
I'll fuck the freckles off your face, bitch!
[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
You know me, drugs out, front the telly,
I'm couch-drunk and ready to fuck, count fetti and bucks.
Pack loud as that slap ‘cross the belly.
What's up? Fuck nigga, what's up?
I'm at the deli schemin' on a Fanta and a Camel Crush,
Screamin', ‘Saddle up!' Like, fuck is beef? Get your cattle cut, pansy!
If them fans only local, why them flights transatlantied up?
The rice and patty's cooked, nice for the chancellor,
Them teeth with the gold bright, the light switches mad at us,
Snapchattin' panty clad baddies, I'm a bachelor.
I'm high and polite ‘cause police is in back of us,
And write with the same hand I smack ‘em up with.
Stretchin' out the fifteen I had initially,
Icky Thump, sticky kush lit up in a rental Jeep.
We could do this shit all night.
[Hook]
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