Lyrics

[Verse: Earl Sweatshirt] Foot and hand on the gates We was jumpin' 'em, fuck, I'm like quicksand in my ways Was always stuck in 'em, stuck it in and I ambulance came The first time, which ain't fast if you Los Angeles-raised (Nigga) My bitch say the spliff take the soul from me (Ayy) And the clique tight-knit, it's like the 'lo rugby Beat the fuckin' beat up like it stole from me (Yup) You can talk to Clancy, you need a feature or quote from me (Bitch) I'm off Delancey, I reek of reefer and show money It's Early, running with niggas who cold runnin' shit The wins like lotion: He get 'em, he gon' rub 'em in Critics pretend they get it, and bitches just don't fuck with him I spent the day drinkin' and missin' my grandmother, just Grab a glass and pour some cold white wine in it Or Colt .45 in it—you know how I get it I'm toastin' myself, and a toast to all my niggas And ain't no time limit, I'm toasted as hell And I gotta jot it quick 'cause I can't focus so well [Outro: Paloma Elsesser] And now, a formal introduction