Twenty-five hundred plus a couple utilities Fuck it, I´ll pay it just to keep the tranquility Fuck it, I love ya, I´ll do anything for you
´Cept settle down with you I don´t want nobody grillin´ me Y´all boys lame, shit killin´ me Need to be reintroduced to humility I ain´t lookin´ for no hip-hop credibility Give a fuck who feelin´ me, I´m feelin´ me I´m really him, I´m really that remedy Himothée Chalamet, pretty girls salivate On the low, off the grid, in the cut, out the way My prime´s in full swing like a Callaway I need a dime every dollar New Balance makes Ain´t ´bout to let the world take my smile away People that betrayed me don´t even fuckin´ know that I know It´s somethin´ that I just file away Lost a few M´s on the festival Okay, and I can´t wait to do the second one All these little high heels sittin´ in the vestibule
Woke up to her best friend sleeping on the sectional Fans still say they miss Jack with the spectacles Last project, I was givin´ you conceptual Next project, I´ll be givin´ you exceptional Fuck everybody, got me on some pansexual Julie Greenwald askin´ if I´m on schedule Label ready for the next record, I´ll let you know ´Bout to ask Ed Sheeran what they gave him Last time that he went to renegotiate the decimals Every day I grow a little less accessible Less of a people pleaser, less flexible More simplistic, soulful, less technical The world´s my oyster, I´m ´bout to get my dog a Perpetual I don´t know why some of y´all skeptical
Maybe ´cause we got the same passion, but you never went professional I just know it´s somethin´ ´bout me that´s detestable New G-Wagon, that bitch is electrical The hate got to me, but I had to act straight like I´m tryna seem hetero Used to kill locals, now the crime scene federal I´m proud of what we done, but I´m tryna be better though ´Cause I don´t really think I´ve made nothin´ incredible Lot of hard verses and a couple regrettable As far as big records go, yeah, I got a few of those But I ain´t done nothin´ indisputable Maybe I´m delusional I just left the old me´s funeral
I would turn the camera on and give you more of me like I used to do But somethin´ ´bout it don´t seem suitable Somethin´ ´bout selling myself feels so juvenile Four hundred degrees out, my knees out, walkin´ ´round Louisville Life´s beautiful when every impulse you have is quite doable I´ma keep tellin´ the truth as per usual