Released: June 24, 2017
Songwriter: Earl Sweatshirt
Producer: RandomBlackDude
[Intro]
Uh, uh
[Verse]
Give it till I can't give, I lend a hand if it's needed
But these stabs got me bleeding out my back kid
Uh, keep it on the fumble we could sack shit
Hat trick, we considered Mulligan's for that shit
The proof is in the pudding and the pamphlets
The sewer and the mattress
Stupid nigga you can get it, get it
Only thing certain was the taxes
Burn me when the journey end, clergymen turn me into ashes
I move surgically, with new sermons for the masses
We too purposed for the scraps
What the verdict read? It's that courtesy of shit circumstances
The earth is my turf, but the hearse like a magnet
I be outside in some handcuffs, might be outside in the dirt, uh
Gentrifiers got the turf getting hacked up
Late nights thinking 'bout who lied to me first
Graveyard energy, tied to the job based off principle
My inner jit grinning, but my face all twisted
It's the artist at work
Greyhound tickets and some haze on my missus
Know it make no sense, I keep my heart on my shirt
When the rainstorm vicious, spend the day blowing, drinking
Tryna harvest the hurt, but it make no difference
Uh, uh
[Verse]
Give it till I can't give, I lend a hand if it's needed
But these stabs got me bleeding out my back kid
Uh, keep it on the fumble we could sack shit
Hat trick, we considered Mulligan's for that shit
The proof is in the pudding and the pamphlets
The sewer and the mattress
Stupid nigga you can get it, get it
Only thing certain was the taxes
Burn me when the journey end, clergymen turn me into ashes
I move surgically, with new sermons for the masses
We too purposed for the scraps
What the verdict read? It's that courtesy of shit circumstances
The earth is my turf, but the hearse like a magnet
I be outside in some handcuffs, might be outside in the dirt, uh
Gentrifiers got the turf getting hacked up
Late nights thinking 'bout who lied to me first
Graveyard energy, tied to the job based off principle
My inner jit grinning, but my face all twisted
It's the artist at work
Greyhound tickets and some haze on my missus
Know it make no sense, I keep my heart on my shirt
When the rainstorm vicious, spend the day blowing, drinking
Tryna harvest the hurt, but it make no difference