Frank Ocean

Frank Ocean & Earl Sweatshirt - Sunday lyrics

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I know it don't seem difficult to hit you up
But you not passionate about half the shit that you into, and I ain't havin' it
And we both know that I don't mean to offend you, I'm just focused today
And I don't know why it's difficult to admit that I miss you
And I don't know why we argue, and I just hope that you listen
And if I hurt you I'm sorry, the music makes me dismissive
When I'm awake I'm just drifting, I'm not complaining
It's just to say that I stay pretty busy, lately
And I could be misbehaving, I just hang with my niggas
I'm fuckin' famous if you forgot, I'm faithful
Despite all what's in my face and my pocket, and this is painfully honest
And when I say it I vomit, on cloudy days when I'm salty
I play the hate to the laundry
State to state for the profit, it ain't a stain on me, nigga
My momma raised me a prophet, I play for dollar incentive
And where I'm walking, it's studded, and half-retarded I stumble
To where she park when she visit, I grab the bottle and chug it
I see the car in the distance, I know the dark isn't coming
For the moment, if I could hold it
She, she seems that

All my dreams got dimmer when I stopped smoking pot
Nightmares got more vivid when I stopped smoking pot
And loving you is a little different, I don't like you a lot
You see, it seems like

I’m coming back I gotta handle business
Vanish to my sleeper seat, left you at terminal three
I’ll meet you down at baggage claim in a couple weeks, a fortnight
And you parade my homecoming, don’t cry
You know I can’t live in any place I visit
To live and die in LA
I got my Fleetwood Mac, I could get high every day
But I’d be sleepy, OCD and paranoid, so
Give me Bali beach - no molly, please - palm, no marijuana trees
Your hickies on my aorta and tattoos you could only see
When I’m playing surfboarder, put whisky in that salt water
I emptied every canteen just to wear that straight edge varsity you think’s cool
They thought me soft in High School, thank God I’m jagged
Forgot you don’t like it rough, I mean he called me a faggot
I was just calling his bluff
I mean how anal am I gon' be when I’m aiming my gun
And why’s his mug all bloody, that was a three on one?
Standing ovation at Staples I got my Grammy’s and gold
Polka dots on my Brit, I’m not supposed to be stunting
It’s all melodic this song, I catch this vibe in my sleep
But I’m just jet-lagged is all, and restless

All my dreams got more vivid when I stopped smoking pot
Nightmares got more vivid when I stopped smoking pot
Loving you’s a little different I don’t like you a lot
I mean…fuck

I don’t know what we’re about
What good is West Coast weather if you’re bi-polar?
If I'mma need this sweater, I’d rather be where it’s cold
Where it snows, I see how it goes
I put the flowers in bowls, know they’re coming in droves
You’ll only miss when it goes
(Yeah, I think that’s it)
When it goes…..
Get this song at:
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Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: Tan Cressida

Details:

Released in: 2013

Language: English

Appearing on: Doris (2013)

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