Horchata

(Really reaching out
For the butterflies)
Go

Rolling Ambaum, sipping Horchata
If you want it the boy got it
He's steady after more profit
If you want it then the boy got it

I look like Andy Milonakis with a lot less swag
I'm a talker like my mama and a poet like my dad
I'm a bull shitter, 'Lil spitter, who stumbled out the vag
With a vengeance for them vixens
And his pants already sagged
I'm that bed wetter, trend setter
My pen letters, been better
So fuck folding a men's sweater
I'm destined for greatness
I sweat in my check
I'm kicking up my feet making a mess of your desk like

Where the women, where the money, where the good smoke?
Where the love, where the funny, where the good folk?
Where the change, where the light, where's the young's hope?
And did we come this far just to run home?

No the fuck we didn't
I'm killing you must be kidding
All the class I skipped to make a classic
Ship is never sinking though
You need to rethink it (uh)
We can never kick it though
Cuz none y'all ever doing shit
Don't hit me like 'lets link up, bro'
Nope, because I'm off of the shits
And best believe I'm dipping if I'm offered the chips
Yeah, we in the green room eating lunchables
Don't shake my hand, I ain't your fam
And don't nobody fuck with you
Treat you like a substitute, laughing when your backs turned
I'm scorching everything I touch
Until this shit is passed burned
And I got peach fuzz on my face
So how it feel when I'm laughing you start running this race?
We ain't one in the same, like don't you ever call me frat rap
But bet ill take that show cuz I'm after all your frats racks
Yup, I'm in the pockets of your polo shorts
Taking cash and split it with my crazy clique composed of dorks
It's crazy all this shit we do for the buzz
I'm tryna flex, my mama's yelling 'bout some pubes in the tub
Yeah, coming to you soon, don't be that lame-o that missed us
Catch me in your city, I'm yelp reviewing the strip clubs

Now watch it how we switch up
No marketing, no management, no publishing, it's just us
Some young bucks, who grew up on this town shit
Steady making moves, when we gotta be home around six (Huh) and I'm still spitting these town raps
And the cops are still harassing my brown dad
And I'm still writing the same verse
My homies went to class while I'm chasing respect from Strangers, a strange nerd wrote poems
And rode his board home
How bad he fucking want it
He's praying like only lord knows
Angry at himself, every verse he spit hit a sore bone
Left that for everyone who told him he needed more flow
And more souls affected by all the words he spit
Nurishment for the broken and anyone pursuing this
So he gon' bare every part of it, all the pieces
Until he becomes exactly who the old him needed
Ambaum