[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]
|
99 problems all gone in that one joint
|
And the neck gold froze like he held it at gunpoint
|
I'm a bubble in the belly of the monster
|
With a duffel full of troubles, trunk rattle in the Mazda
|
Ragged with the Contra, Phantom of the Opera
|
And I'm standing on the cop's truck, stacking for the long run
|
The bags packed, roadside with the thumb out
|
Toe tag, don't gag, fag, spit your gum out
|
Nomadic, chrome-grabbing with his day job
|
A major born puffy holding flight like a hangar do
|
Knife to the trachea, spit escapers are bent
|
The label don't like me but they pay me a grip
|
And you see how his day going by the state of his wrists
|
My niggas busy Play-Dohing, bet the baker came swinging like
|
What the fuck you saying? All that aiming amiss
|
Hey, I'm a fuck the freckles off your bitch, nigga
|
|
[Hook: RZA]
|
We could do this shit all night
|
I'll fuck the freckles off your face, bitch
|
We could do this shit all night
|
I'll fuck the freckles off your face, bitch
|
|
[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
|
You know me, drugged out, 'front the telly
|
I'm couch-drunk, ready to fuck, Tom Petty you bust
|
Pack loud as that slap across the belly
|
What's up? Fuck nigga, what's up? I'm Machi-deli
|
Scheming on the fontana Camel Crush screaming "Saddle up!"
|
Like fuck his beef, get your cattle cut, pansy
|
If the fans only local, why the flights trans-Atlantied?
|
I'm the rice to the paddies, good nights for the chancellor
|
The teeth with the gold bright, the light switch's mad at us
|
Snapchatted panty-clad baddies, I'm a bachelor
|
Hired for life because po-lice is in back of us
|
And write with the same hand I smack 'em up with
|
Stretching out the fifteen I had initially
|
Icky Thump, sticky kush lit up in a rental Jeep
|
|
[Hook]
|
|
-----------------
|
Molasses
|
| Earl Sweatshirt |