ft vince staples earl sweatshirt - burgundy (ft. vince staples) - earl sweatshirt lyrics
all the bad b-tches boo when you rap
i can teach you how to pull em like a tutor in fact, i got
one in the front and
two in the back
these b-tches keep screaming “odd future is back!”
x2
wolf with a t-rex c-ck
less talk while i invest stock in wet rock
smoke with all the big b-tches b-mpin’ bed rock
sub in the trunk thumping up against the dead cops
and poppin like i tossed a match in the engine
and go harder than a f-ckin crack intervention
clown of the cl-ss and the last to attend it
big earl make you f-gs stand at attention
odd future i’m your mother f-ckin general
catch you where slap, slap, stab b-tches n-gg-rs go
girl you ain’t even gotta ask cause you’re feelin know
why this playboy so sticky in the centerfold
sticky where my n-gg-s blow
icky earl finish first
hit em low
riddle them with chronicles of ridd-ck bows
chronic in the spliff to the dome, got my system slow
so i’m walkin out, ask them n-gg-s what they spittin’ for
black ted bundy, sick as john gacy
chillin’ with a possible victim, she was 18
a hitchhikin hippie wh-r-
met her at the liquor store
she frequented to help support the habit picked up in the 4th
grade a piece of -ss, so i planned on scr-w-ng it
slipped a couple roofalin inside the b-tches juice and gin
next thing you know, we’re on earl’s burgundy carpet
and she’s kicking and screaming, beggin for me to f-ckin stop it
look, you know it’s not rape if you like it b-tch
so sit down like a pretty ho and don’t fight the sh-t
or else i’ll have to tie a pretty bow around your bl–dy neck
hide the slices from the gashes gven with a dull gillette
mop the blood up with the body in the apartment
stash it where we hide the marijuana and the condoms
“hey, what’s that!”
don’t touch it or even f-ckin look
you’re fantasia and the body bag’s a f-ckin book
yo vince, let me tell you bout these ho’s i met last night
they thought i was cute ’till i asked what that -ss like
d-mn right, red light, ran right through it
“you don’t even have your permit, what the f-ck are you doin?!”
well maybe if you’d shut the f-ck up we be cruising
and you wouldn’t be sittin boo-hoo’in bout your bruises
but no, you wanna be miss “f-ck with the music”
i’m zoning on relapse, she’s slidin on blueprint
3 seconds it takes for her to turn blue with my hands around her throat
her arms stop movin’
pulse stops, too in the back, look confused i turn to tell ’em both not to do sh-t stupid
red, white, blue lights in the rear view, sh-t
swerve to the shoulder tell em both no movin sit
down in the back cause the windows tinted
as i roll down mine to forge a new friendship
“aren’t you a little too young to be driving?”
look, officer. i’m just trying to get home
“get out the f-ckin car with your license and registration”
i ain’t getting out of sh-t, you startin to try my patience
didn’t have back up i could tell by the hummin bike
reach to the glove, grab the mother f-ckin hunting knife
stabbed him in his neck and hip
threw him in the truck and dipped
back to the f-ckin crib for some tea and crumpets, sh-t
all the bad b-tches boo when you rap
i can teach you how to pull em like a tutor in fact
a dead one in the front, dead cop in the back
the two live b-tches screaming ‘odd future is back!”
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