Ball Cap
(专辑: Winter Booty Icicles - 2017)
Yo, stop it I'm taking watches out the
pockets For my niggas who ain't got it And I
still don't make a
profit Wait, I'll flip it, and buy a
honda civic Fuck a
critic She listen to my music I
don't ask her for the
digits Goddamn, another she in my life The
last one left She lowkey still be in my life Give me the
key to my house 'Cause Imma need it tonight We don't meet, but she in my eyelids when I'm sleeping at night Got the
style sharper than a
knife slice Ride motorbikes with dykes It's fine, go ahead and pull that plug on my lifeline Don't leave me lifeless Afraid to go to that high place, but not being righteous I
be in that seventh circle if it does exist I'm dropping sixes like the
6ers vs the
fucking Knicks Clinching spliffs the
size of telescopes and ice the
wrist Down to 40 ounces biggest rock to swallow finds a
sip Then I
go to sleep, after checking lyrics Making sure I
didn't skip a
beat 'Cause god forbid my lyrics ain't really sounded sweet Most people listen that others know I
need counseling These niggas call me whack You got me twisted like a
bottle cap I
stashed my inspiration from Dime bags and lava lamps Like, oh my god 'cause jehovah he ain't calling back I
drop relationships like roses I
don't call a
fag And get the
niggas who want features off my ballsack Like, I
don't really care about offers and all that Ashes on my clothes But I
ain't twisting my ball cap backwards This the
master, all you artists can fall back When I
drop a
mic Yo, I
leave it scalding hot Will these women like me before clout? I
mean like, probably not The
same niggas who hate The
ones I'm shitting on All you hear is stolen Like the
beat that I'm spitting on Take your girls pads And use them to put these written's on Don't worry 'bout my lyrics 'Cause I'm a
fucking musician, mom And, Yeah I'm sorry for my decisions, mom But that was back in the
past In the
present and we get along Like, you "You wanna go to prison, son" I
don't want no fucking degree But I
can go get me one And um num Sneaky politicians, the
suspicious ones Kissing bitches who's kissing lips Taste like, the
glistening sun