| Moonlight disrupt the day
|
| Been like this every night
|
| Walking in stumbling
|
| Fucked up some bread today
|
| Though I said no no this time
|
| Cycles on cycles
|
| It’s like an amphetamine
|
| How it marinate on my mind
|
| Stuck on me, yah
|
| Got no doubt I’ll be alright
|
| If I just make it through the night
|
| Pass me the amphetamine
|
| Right now can’t focus on anything
|
| Why they take lil bro instead of me?
|
| I hurt when you hurt, we was siamese
|
| Nigga was seventeen, when I found out what that cheddar mean
|
| Rats’ll bite holes through the wall to get close
|
| Watch for their trail, man they always be close
|
| Back-a-wood rolla, really a smoker
|
| This louder than when you drive on the shoulder
|
| Stomp on the gas 'til I’m blowin' the motor
|
| Can’t 'ford to sit with my thoughts or it’s over
|
| Really but luckily, I got a real one, she fuck wit me
|
| Shawty, she yellow, yeah keep me on my toes, stay mellow
|
| She deserve a fucking ring
|
| I’m off the sedatives
|
| Amphetamine
|
| I don’t know where I’m headed
|
| Don’t know where I’m headed
|
| Sedatives
|
| Amphetamine
|
| Sedatives
|
| I don’t know where I’m headed
|
| Don’t know where I’m headed
|
| Moonlight disrupt the day
|
| Been like this every night
|
| Walking in stumbling
|
| Fucked up some bread today
|
| Though I said no no this time
|
| Cycles on cycles
|
| It’s like an amphetamine
|
| How it marinate on my mind
|
| Stuck on me, yah
|
| Got no doubt I’ll be alright
|
| If I just make it through the night
|
| Moonlight disrupt the day
|
| Been like this every night
|
| Walking in stumbling
|
| Fucked up some bread today
|
| Though I said no no this time
|
| Cycles on cycles
|
| It’s like an amphetamine
|
| How it marinate on my mind
|
| Stuck on me, yah
|
| Got no doubt I’ll be alright
|
| If I just make it through the night
|
| I’m off the sedatives
|
| Amphetamine
|
| I don’t know where I’m headed
|
| Don’t know where I’m headed
|
| Sedatives
|
| Amphetamine
|
| I don’t know where I’m headed
|
| Don’t know where I’m headed
|
| No
|
| God damn, Phoe'
|
| Swn, swn, swn, swn, swn
|
| Ay
|
| Krash kourse into the world
|
| This insular world
|
| The culture vultures flock in every sense of the word
|
| My nose can sniff the shit out but I’m never deterred
|
| Never be scurred, scored through the downs, first and third
|
| Grandaddy spittin, ain’t nothing new bout the system
|
| 'Cause how they do me they did him
|
| Appropriating the fellas
|
| Sucking the fruit from my elders
|
| Don’t give a Chuck bout no Berry
|
| They rather listen to Elvis
|
| Woah, mama
|
| And these kids know better, uh
|
| I’m grand like abuela, uh
|
| More hands than Coachella, uh
|
| Lil hoe it’s whatever, uh
|
| Shawty cold as December, I still fold her, no Manila
|
| B-b-b-brr wit me baby, I hibernate, smoke the lettuce
|
| No niggas jammed off the reggie
|
| Free all my dogs, fuck Cruella
|
| Nigga need cream, vanilla, ele-vate
|
| Coconut Beamer, oiled up, switching lanes
|
| Chocolate interior, that’s a belly ache
|
| I done went Murda Mike, on the may-a-ooo, uh
|
| She on the payroll, he on the payroll
|
| I want queso, I want the caseload
|
| She do what I say so, now
|
| She fucked up, yeah, she might do the Fabo
|
| Send that RIP, out yeah, and that shit for Shawty Lo
|
| Back when I was broke I had to pour that Bacardi slow
|
| Now I’m on the board, niggas salty like margaritas, ooh
|
| I used to dream about the coupe, baby
|
| Now I’m thinking bout when it was me and you, baby
|
| Yeah, used to dream about the coupe, baby
|
| Now I think of me and you
|
| I don’t know what’s better, I won’t say what’s worse
|
| Pen is like a needle when I bleed these words
|
| I could make a blessing if I spit this verse
|
| That’s why I be retching 'til I rid my curse
|
| Black it be the sweetest
|
| Secrecy up in the frequencies
|
| That’s why you feel the need
|
| To look at me like I’m a deity
|
| Duality is key, you see
|
| That I’m seein' you seein' me
|
| So now we seeing equally, and that don’t happen easily
|
| Needlessly to say, I hate that we’re meeting this way
|
| Feel like I packed up to go
|
| 'Bout a week ago
|
| I don’t know
|
| If I switch up my flow I might tap into the pinnacles
|
| I’m sellin' syllables, I’m losing principles
|
| Lurkin', searching for miracles
|
| Hurtin' workmen, curtain closed
|
| Earn a million dollars just to owe it to some imbeciles
|
| If they tell me no, I be dumb, all I hear is go
|
| Crossfire coming but I’m pigeon-toed, winter froze |
| I done went Murda Mike, on the may-a-ooo, uh
|
| She on the payroll, he on the payroll
|
| I want queso, I want the caseload
|
| She do what I say so, now
|
| She fucked up, yeah, she might do the Fabo
|
| Send that RIP, out yeah, and that shit for Shawty Lo
|
| Back when I was broke I had to pour that Bacardi slow
|
| Now I’m on the board, niggas salty like margaritas, ooh
|
| I used to dream about the coupe, baby
|
| Now I’m thinking bout when it was me and you, baby
|
| Yeah, used to dream about the coupe, baby
|
| Now I think of me and you
|
| Cunning linguistics
|
| Punishing puns
|
| Pumping the petrol, gas in my lungs
|
| Loving the low times, higher than a mug
|
| Up in the cabinet
|
| Imagine a baby reaching his hands up to grab it
|
| A pipe done busted in heaven
|
| And got to leaking out blessings
|
| Reaching my hands up to grab it
|
| Re’in my bands up
|
| Uh, uh
|
| Sunny metropolis, overzealous as telefone
|
| Telefone a new continent, maybe rode me a rocketship
|
| Copper all on my dash, and he ticket that lady optimist
|
| Said I’m moving too fast, slow down, slow down
|
| Opened up for Lauryn Hill, woah now, woah now
|
| Woah now
|
| Everything is everything and the object steady mystified
|
| My allegories underneath the rock will only fear resides
|
| I bet I’m gon' find it, I know I’m gon' find it
|
| Happiness, bank account, white accountant
|
| I found the fountain
|
| I was born in all black, how could God denounce this?
|
| I told Him, 'Give me my money, I need my money now'
|
| Thank you Jesus, whoever you are
|
| I know you gifted me the gift of gab and simile
|
| And simpleness, the solitude is loneliness
|
| Been good to me
|
| I told them, 'Give me my happy, I need my holy now'
|
| Thank you Jesus, whoever you are
|
| Thank you Jesus, whoever you are |