Earl Sweatshirt
Earl Sweatshirt - Guild songtekst
Je score:
[Verse 1: Mac] Said this a hit of liquid heroin, Marilyn Mason channeling Panicking, spar with Anakin ’til one of us leave in an ambulance Blow the smoke of the spliff in your eyes… You ain’t gon’ live ’til you die Intelligent bitch at my side She bitching, I’m spitting habitual lies I hit her up when my jet land, call her Swisher tucked in my headband Front page news, I’m Young Jes?s Eatin’ bagels with no cable on I’ve been fuckin’ hoes since when Mase was on (okay) I hope the Based God hear my prayers One day you’re here, the next day you’re gone So me and Earl smokin’ weed on jd’s lawn Some dope rap on your hoe-ass, Tony Womack Don’t hold back, no – feed your girl Cognac Eat a bitch sleeping with a feverish diva chick Met her off Twitter, even Schindler keep a list Pittsburg, broke down somewhere in the Fisker I could pull your bitch with a whisper then diss her …dumbass hoe… She only dumb ’cause she love that dough (okay) Some are getting high, reading Juxtapose Hit her up, she come through Watch Adjustment Bureau (good movie) Moms love me ’cause I’m so commercial I fuck ‘em raw ’cause I know they’re fertile In Myrtle Beach with a purple fleece Hotel lobbies playing F?are Elise I’m Ron Burgundy mixed with Hercules Slap a bitch in the mouth if she curse at me Said “Josh’s beard is like Paul Revere” When he walk in the room, it’s like God is here I’m at a prop shop in Montauk Throwin’ tomahawks at civilians I’m chillin’ ... [Verse 2: Earl] I’m on the monitor, nigga… She’s takin’ it like a champ, and I’m proud of her I’m on the couch where that loud is burning Shouting “I don’t fuck with you! ” ’cause I don’t Never love a hoe – but we could play doctor Ma, open wide for the thermometer Your cowgirl is crotch-rotted With a clean fade, her ‘fro lopsided Tell the label that I want a white driver And tell him give me space, I don’t know that nigga Bold-ass little fuckin’ low-class villain Whole van tinted – no, can’t kill him It’s the Trash Wang nigga, that’s what’s up (nigga) Half-pint of hope in that plastic cup Real nigga from the start ’til the casket shut Present his own case, it’s a basket one Present-day based nigga smack the judge Rhyme with them same niggas ashin’ blunts But that bass make his face like he mad or something Slide into the safe, take the cash and run And know that if he fake, I’m harassing him They took the big toe so they tagged the tongue Out here stuntin’ like I’m supposed to, dawgs Blowin’ more smoke then a broke exhaust Pipe, only spirit that’ll hold me, dawg It’s Wolf Gang, bitch, like you know these paws Livin’ like in ’62… spitting rip my genitals My bitch just split the Swisher My niggas split them residuals… [Outro:] Aye, this marijuana feels ‘Pac Growing, blaring Gil Scott Heron, while we pill pop Ever run and kill cops? Niggas know I feel not For ‘em, stop bitching and staring Get that grill knocked open… Aye, this marijuana feels ‘Pac Growing, blaring Gil Scott Heron, while we pill pop Ever run and kill cops? Niggas know I feel not For ‘em, stop bitching and staring Get that grill knocked open… Nigga…