Fleetwood

(album: Word? - 2021)

There's no winners at the ass-kissing contest
Not even the judge
Identify the object, but keep it in your pocket
And try to leave the page before you start to read the comments
I can't remember when she wasn't asking what was wrong
I'm not offended, I'm pretending it's just because of the songs
While I was rendering my life, y'all put the shuffle on

It's like I'm standing on the corner of Lyndale and Lake
I'm staring at the shit displayed behind the windows and gates
Patient waiting for the bus to carry me down the street
I feel like fuck you, January, got me freezing my feet
Sleeping on the plane, tryna find time travel
Like you high enough to see inside of the galaxy's asshole
It follow you and swallow you like a black hole

Ayy, I'm not the same dude I used to be, thankfully
Permanently angry, tryna burn your little angel wings
My shit still stinks, nobody's changing me
You trying to get dough, I'm trying to take over a bakery
You kinda look like the type that might book flights
When faced with adversity, the first to be like, "Good night"
Took a long pull, hype

I been around the world and I-I-I
I can't find a sweet spot to squat and die-ie-ie
Y'all be talking hella shit, I guess I probably would as well
I walk like an elephant, shook the bell, you took the L and
Flipped it upside down like a crutch, yo
Let go of my tusk before the mountain erupts
And everybody's like, "What? We ain't know it's a volcano, fuck"

Fuck