Lyrics:
funeral in that
Same fucking hoodie I wear
Every fucking battle!
You make the worst life decisions
For instance
Why the fuck do you throw up every time
You
time for no wham-bam thank you mam
Gas me up, get me drunk and hit, then you scram
The same old shit you pulled last week on Pam
I'm not having it, no
you hoped for
That's a real life question
Faith Journey teaching me some
Real life lessons
Spent the next week
In the same town preaching
Knut got sick
It's a shoot
cnd I been livin right above the poverty line
Been working round the clock
cnd I'm running out of time
7 days in a week
Been working over
jumped right in a week later and returned
I reckon she was only looking for a lover to burn
But I gave her my time for two or three nights
Then I put it
throbbing and strained
Dismembered and sobbing in pain
Well, we can't go back in time. I guess I gotta become a hitman. Let me log in your Name
The next time
aint typing how he act i know that boy be in with freaks
Shit just ask me how i know me an bro hit the same week
Hit a nigga a couple times thats when
a keep?
Asked her if she wanted the same again to drink.
Started to turn and get up out my seat.
I saw this thing on ITV the other week,
said,
You know parents are the same
No matter time nor place
They don't understand that us kids
Are going to make some mistakes
So to you, all the kids
said that weren't impressed by lame dudes with no game
They're all the same trying to get your instant messaging name
But the fact that you hit me
I done set the rules to no extent
I just wanna rule when I expand
She can go and move to the next man
Focused on my moves and my next plans
I don't
fight
And then you feel time passes by
Like a flash at the speed of light
I'm sure next Monday will be
A nightmare again
Same old problems will feel
Like
you hide your feelings, and they hard to find,
I want to know what's on your mind
CHORUS
About a week went by and I called her, "Hello"
I said yo,
a text back
Saying next time we can try
But what if I aint' promised next time
And I die
Then how would you feel?
Would you care at all?
Would you shed any
the blunt pass
"What we doin' today" Same shit we did last week
Wake up in the morning and yawn and roll up
Bag up and make some runs and roll up
5-0 behind
Lil grey in my chest hair
But who the F care
Long as check clear same day or next air
Accountant Call me when I get there
Just Mark it X square
Tatted
spendin' next week's cash, he fast (oh)
And I don't even need a G-pass, I'm past that
I'm passin' 'em out now (yeah), and you can't have that (yeah)
spendin' next week's cash, he fast (oh)
And I don't even need a G-pass, I'm past that
I'm passin' 'em out now (yeah), and you can't have that (yeah)
or hating your occupation
Just listen to conversation we kicking up out the basement youngster
I've been in the same shoes too
But enough is enough it's time
of his company
Was rudely interrupted by his secretary, Josephine
Gracelessly barging into the room to inform him
Of his wife, on the telephone with
and four chords repeated
Completed by a relatable lyrical concept about an ex or something
This isn't for the masses
It's for the
musically analytical
So
It starts with the head multiplies by living dead arms
Stretches out from dirt popping sockets pulling hair next thing
Lying up on a stretcher
usin' a bat, Mike Keaton
Soon in the Louvre, know that I will see a
Mural of my own music, be a
Good kid and make a mad city dap me up
Say the same shit,
energy
That... family first dom toretto typa energy
I grab her by the waist
She so gentle when she next to me
Fuck it
But you know it's true
Spent weeks
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