Earl Sweatshirt
Frank Ocean & Earl Sweatshirt - Sunday songtekst
Je score:
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…..