Earl Sweatshirt - Wool lyrics

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' Sike n***a, I don’t do that n***as get bloo-blapped and blown away Wessons making Mexicans wetbacks like órale Okay, I’m on to 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 sh**, I’m tryna' make a million dollars Keep it hood while crossing over on some A.I. sh** I need a foreign baby momma to match a n***a model whip Ramona Park made me from scratch A lot of lotto picks lost inside this game called rap I be the underdog Bullet hit his forehead, it exit out his under arm Ain’t nobody bigger than my hood, my n***a, f** a boss Baby momma k**er, you offended and I f** her raw Stretchy doin' federal time for bustin' at the law And he gonna be a neighbor of mine, you play me for a pawn Shorty I be swimmin' with sharks, your posse full of prawns Pistols rip his body apart, now he afraid of dark alleyways n***as better listen when the pastor say It's Golf on that--b**h, it's Golf on that ball cap I guzzle the tall boy, Jehovah ain’t call back And ya’ll still debating over Earl music Troops got the group nationwide moving merch units crazy Peanut bu*ter to paisley, walking down the street In the different color McGrady's, that first grader was me Now my fist full of spliffs and the old banker receipts b**hes 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 momma I been limiting my features, filling swishers up with reefer b**h, it's difficult to beat him like a soft dick Golf clique deep and we don't hit the streets pa**ive That n***a Sweaty got the gas and Shreddy k brought the matches Put your body down in water like a Lipton tea bag is Switch to different f**ing whip to let them piggies speed past 'em It's the rats, try and get the cheese What it do? Rap like I'm mincing meat Call me Lou, if I'm on the track, these n***as skip to me n***as want to fade me, b**hes feel some type of way for me 50's in my pocket falling out like f**ing baby teeth Vince be with the rocket, he gone pop it when it’s danger round Fingertips to tapers, now, salute us when you face us Give a f** about the moves all these loser n***as making now