about
Featuring Alicia Martin and DJ PrimeMinister.
lyrics
I don't sound like Bon Iver, Sam Beam or Dallas Green
No, that is not me, see,
I ain't got the pipes to entice come nighttime
My voice isn't soft-light outlining your thoughts despite signs
That I am passionate...all the while called a "fag"
'Cause I don't feel the need to go and brag about the ass I get
I care about you too much
And I know that I cannot complete with those whimsical fucks
So I sound the way I do, the way I do right here
Here's hoping that my cd ain't under your root beer
Here's hoping that my cd invaded your two ears
'Cause, uh, that's all I can expect
With my genuine sentiment set to a tune that is relevant to me
However, evidence would lead to elements of those three in certain scribblin's
It's not necessarily fibbin'
But listen lady, I don't see myself working on my whisperin'...
What you lookin' for?
Sniffin' me out like a German Shepard
Diggin' in my yard, now who the dog?
Who the lesser?
You so pressed for, that upper echelon
Magna cum laude from Pepperdine
Decathlon for your love to be successful
XOXO, I won't text you every hour on the hour
That's way too stressful, I don't have time
I'll put my feelings into escrow
I'd rather spend my time giving you the death stroke
If you don't like it fine
You still bite it, why?
Just throw it away like egg roll
Too much pride, you lust I
You full of yourself you Prego
I'm feeling myself, I'm Pharaoh while I'm sippin' on my Faygo
Ey girl gon, like goo gong
Look I don't mean no harm
But I am my father's son and my pimp game is too strong
I'm two-toned, divided
Near-sided so come here closer
I'm a different kinda cat - I use the ashtray as a coaster
Poster child of the wild, smitten with mental stress
Take a sip, take a hit and I flick it on your dress
I'm a mess. . .
I just wanna get high
And drink my Pineapple Faygo...
credits
license
all rights reserved