Wool feat. Vince Staples

歌詞

[Intro: Vince Staples] Yeah, yeah, yeah [Verse 1: Vince Staples] Soon as I catch the vibe tell 'em to fetch the hearse Shorty I’m pressin' lines lifting the Lauren shirt Tell her to bless the girth if she with it I’m in that kitchen, wrist water whippin' work (Psych!) Nigga, I don’t do that Niggas get bloop-blapped and blown away Wessons making Mexicans wetbacks like "Órale!" Okay, I’m onto something Momma should've told you it’d be days like this It’s just a tale from the crip I’m on my séance shit, I’m tryna' make a million dollars Keep it hood while crossing over on some A.I. shit I need a foreign baby mama to match a nigga model whip Ramona Park made me from scratch A lot of lotto picks lost inside this game we call rap I be the underdog Bullet hit his forehead, it exit out his underarm Ain’t nobody bigger than my hood, my nigga, fuck a boss Baby-mama killer, you offended, and I fuck her raw Stretchy doing federal time for busting at the law And he gon' be a neighbor of mine, you play me for a pawn Shawty, I be swimming with sharks, your posse full of prawns Pistols rip his body apart, now he afraid of dark alleyways Niggas better listen when the pastor say [Break: Vince Staples] Ugh, hold on, hold on, let me hear me that Ugh, hold on, hold on, ugh Ugh, hold on, hold on, ugh [Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt] It's Golf on that— Bitch, it's Golf on that ball cap I guzzle the tallboy, Jehovah ain’t call back And y’all still debating over Earl music Troops got the group nationwide moving merch units crazy (Nigga) Peanut butter to paisley Walking down the street in the different-color McGradys That first-grader was me Now, my fist full of spliffs and the old banker receipts Bitches grip the stick and jerky like cold shanks of the beef, dry I’m taking purses like they chances in the evening Pick your pants up, boy, you dancing with a demon On my mama, I been limiting my features, filling Swishers up with reefer Bitch, it's difficult to beat him, like a soft dick Golf clique deep, and we don't hit the streets passive That nigga Sweaty got the gas, and Shreddy K brought the matches Pitch your body in the water like a Lipton teabag And then switch to a different fucking whip to let them piggies speed past him It's the rats, tryna get the cheese What it do? Rap like I'm mincing meat Call me Lou—if I'm on the track, these niggas skip to me Niggas want to fade me, bitches feel some type of way for me Fifties in my pocket falling out like fucking baby teeth Vince be with the rocket, he gon' pop it when it’s danger 'round Fingertips to tapers now, salute us when you face us Give a fuck about the moves all these loser niggas making now