(Verse 1)
|
Whats good good?
|
And what's good evil?
|
And what's good gangstas?
|
And what's good people?
|
And whys God's phone die every time that I call on Him?
|
If his son had a Twitter wonder if I would follow him
|
Swallow them synonyms like cinnamon Cinnabon
|
Keep all them sentiments down to a minimum
|
Studious Gluteus Maxim models is sending him
|
Pics of they genitalia tallied up ten of em
|
I slurped too many pain-kills, downing em off a lot
|
I got a lot off days but it ain't often that I'm off the clock
|
Ya'know I mean?
|
I got the Chicago Blues
|
We invented rock before the Stones got through
|
We just aiming back cause the cops shot you
|
Buck buck bang bang, yelling "Fuck Fox News!"
|
Booyaka buckle up, mothafuck ops too
|
Ain't no knuckling up em young cause it just not cool
|
|
(Bridge)
|
Nice to see you Father New Year
|
Middle finger Uncle Samuel
|
Shooting death and waving dice
|
And hitting stains on birthday candles
|
I know somebody, somebody loves my ass
|
Cause they help me beat my demons ass
|
|
(Hook: Chance & BJ the Chicago Kid) x3
|
Everybody's somebody's everything
|
I know you are
|
Nobody's nothing
|
That's right
|
|
(Verse 2)
|
Right? IGH
|
I used to tell hoes I was dark light or off white
|
But I'd fight if a nigga said that I talk white
|
And both my parents was black
|
But they saw it fit that I talk right
|
And my draws here but my heart
|
And head stayed in the clouds like a lost kite
|
But gravity had me up in a submission hold
|
Like I'm dancing with the Devil with two left feet and I'm pigeon toed
|
In two small point ballet shoes with a missing sole
|
And two missing toes
|
But it's love like Cupid kissing a mistletoe
|
|
(Bridge)
|
Nice to see you Father New Year
|
Middle finger Uncle Samuel
|
Shooting death and waving dice
|
And hitting stains on birthday candles
|
I know somebody, somebody loves my ass
|
Cause they help me beat my demons ass
|
|
(Verse 3: Saba)
|
Like Cassius ducking the draft and now the fight is over
|
The type that love from a distance not the type that towed her
|
Spent three days on the rap, trash it and type it over
|
With babies on the block under arms like fighting odors
|
Coppers and quotas
|
Hold ya head like 2Pac had taught
|
Honestly they are on a come up
|
With better chances tobogganing in the fucking summer
|
Concoctions for the bad days and a condom for the good ones
|
All odds against we tryna get lucky
|
Doper than lucky
|
You ain't that happy that's only a tuggy
|
Like Satan masturbating shit come hot
|
But y'all still love me ugh
|
How father time of dead be
|
Maybe I'm adopted
|
That'll explain why all of my shit been so timeless IGH
|
|
(Hook: Chance & BJ the Chicago Kid) x3
|
Everybody's somebody's everything
|
I know you are
|
Nobody's nothing
|
That's right
|
|
-----------------
|
Everybody's Something
|
| Chance The Rapper |