Seven - The Parlour lyrics

[Verse 1] Blood in my lungs Shotgun in my own mouth Ballin' so hard I got money I don't count Stacks in my pocket, stacks cause I'm indie Even though the f**in odds were just stacked up against me Hold up, I took a shot of whiskey now I'm fine Ain't a single one of you gon' say this city isn't mine Even though these record labels told me that I need to act realer They said they'll sign me if I act like I'm Mac Miller Some even said they wouldn't sign me cause I'm balding Even though my flow is straight scalding Now I'm losin confidence I feel like quittin music Even though my flow is so abusive I'm just scared to let my balls swing So f** ya'll, I ain't nobody's pet dog I pull a gun and all these record labels get robbed I gotta make you bang your head until your neck throb No one in their right mind deserves to work a desk job I'm gonna catch this dream before I die, b**h I'm gonna catch this dream before I die [Verse 2] I don't even need a cheesy pop single or a chorus Ya'll bout to watch me shift the whole entire global orbit I'm on my own dick it's so big, it's so enormous I think I'll swallow myself like I'm the Ouroboros Morbid, black poisonus orchids Torture anybody on that music business who*e sh** "How much does a feature cost?" b**h you can't afford it Ten billion unmarked bills on a forklift I smack the paparazzi b**h I'm on that Bjork sh** Drinkin Beaujolais with a plate of seared swordfish Either that or Farmhouse Ale with some pork tips I quilt words together it's so gorgeous I never quit it would be bad news to my fans I'm committed I put tattoos on my hands I'll never get a real job I'm stuck makin music For the goodnatured people that just feel odd I'm gonna catch this dream before I die, b**h I'm gonna catch this dream before I die [Verse 3] Listen, I ain't dissin anybody Tryin to work a 9-5 so they can get a little money But if you feel like you got a pa**ion that you gotta chase Quit your job and hock a loogy in your boss's face Cause I spent too long showin up to work formal How can I do normal work? My brain don't even work normal I'd rather spray paint the stars til their black Therapeutic gangster rap There's a market for that Look, if I was Gucci Mane Pitchfork would say I'm the greatest f**in writer of my day I'm sick of music publications giddy in their press for thugs Ya'll are named Pitchfork why you obsessed with Bloods? Just because I'm white and used to mess with d** Does not mean Eminem's the reason that I rap I know real gangsters and people in the trap It's a fantasy for ya'll and we're just leavin it at that b**h I'm gonna catch this dream before I die, b**h I'm gonna catch this dream before I die