[Intro: Vince Staples]
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I feel like the Tom Sawyer for real niggas
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Looking for a problem, revolver under the Hilfiger
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No bluff needed, we will kill niggas
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So try me if you want, bruh, I promise I'm with all of that
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Late night shooters, got 'em thinking Johnny Carson back
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Trying to win this white man game with my heart attack
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All off a dollar and a dream that I really had
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Kind of hard to sleep when your thoughts is in the streets
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North north is the side where my family stay
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Big Baby Jesus, I can't wait
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Money coming in, spend it all on guns and rims
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I ain't nothing but a nigga, ain't no reason to pretend
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[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]
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Kept the sticky in the Stussy pouch
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Ski mask, bloody 'Preme hoodie tossing doobies out
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The window of the hoopty, night black as Paul
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Mooney at the movies but the moon was out
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Food was always optional
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Eating nothing but hard punches to that abdominal
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Closed fist chronicles, sole sniff momma knew
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Baggies laying 'round, peanut shells at a carnival
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Stomping clowns, welcome pussy niggas to the romper room
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Buckshot'll cover a whole torso like a parka do
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In a park at 2 clock trying to guard her loot
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Split it with his big roll dog, call him Marmaduke
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Searching for a shard of truth and found uh
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Couple bucks bought his cousins lunch
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Another Dutch, stiff collar on the button-up
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Hood, rich, wild, and 'bout to run amuck
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Road to hell paved with cement, cut the trucks and drugs, toughen up
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[Hook: x2]
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Alright, okay
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If that's how you truly feel about it then
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[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
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Vinny Stape, they stupid, think the city safe
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Into that little bendy place, head shots, red dot
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Block as hot as Denny plates, fed watch, Fed watch
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Opinions only pity based, deep in the Civic with the
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Evilest niggas this side of the Mississippi
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All courtesy of Vincent from niggas who plot a ditch
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Ear-L-double-S, hear shells from the Tec
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Hear rim full-effect, eat a dick and cut a check, bitch
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Few niggas I'm on a first-name basis with
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Address me by the alias, that trunk weighted like he
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'Bout to catch a case again, Ace louder than the voice of
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Satan that be plaguing him, bruh, I'm caking
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Whether Hell or bad weather, high water, I'm a sailor-type
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Assailant for the paper, living like I met the maker twice
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Hit it 'til I'm faded right? Mami, take a hike
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And treat it like you fucking shaking dice, bitch
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[Hook]
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-----------------
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Centurion
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| Earl Sweatshirt |
