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the feminists - lumber lyrics

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just let me know when something’s done
o-ho-oh god don’t do it!

[verse 1: viva]

yo backstage blunted, getting stomach from your girlfriend
cause i run it, i stack bars like lumber
i pack a punch like pacquiao or basquiat with the paint
with the pen there ain’t sh-t i can’t conquer

now go die bro, and don’t forget your guitar
with toothpaste up my -ss i’m doing abs in the car
i get f-cked off a f-g and two tabs of that tar
stuck between time and sp-ce where i can dance with the stars

it’s way true! (back yo..) it’s on par
and brother sam write raps like meek mills with a chart
i’m in the car, smoking seasonal chard and wet weed like
who the f-ck needs a reason to shower

ya, div 3 and a fart, i’m raising the bar
and ??? need ??? like jesus and art
a meet in the park, it don;t breathe it don’t pop
just more weed and more schnaaps you know vivsy won’t stop

[verse 2: sam’s casino]

more coffee, pour me more coffee
a little bit of cream and a stick of that biscotti
a little hint of cinnamon and tiny bits of toffee
i’m gonna need to see your f-cking snacks in the lobby!

i got the swishers in my purse like it’s thursday
i’m getting water boarded but i’m still thirsty
a black hippie, feeling real dirty
roll another spliff up all nine inches

i got a chess board i bop it down to thirty
enfield to prescott all my b-tches
singing in the shower you love my pitches
water down the drain like all of my riches

i’m dropping flavor my demeanor is incendiary
eating froyo with mochi out in tokyo
loked out snapping photos with my kodachrome
while my homie viva push a stroller out in holyoke

i do it! i do it!

[verse 3: alec]

holyoke
mah. mah
sams casino
da grigarette, da grigaret-

yo, ey yo viva stay lofty, i just do my thing
reppin’ like i owe it to the team, staying sweaty as a prospy
i’m blowin’ 83’s ’till i’m nauseous, all black everything
no cream in the coffee kinda prejudice

homie was rocking wedding rings, now i’m on to better things
seeing like a state, threw some b-tches on the resume
homie is getting cake, rolling t-tties to the bank
word to desiree, i’m getting it, young wigga’s compet-tive-ow! f-ck

- the feminists lyrics

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