| Dressed in the same shit I wore yesterday
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| Yeah, it’s still fresh, never flexed clichés
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| I never write a verse and repeat the same thing
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| Cause the sheen on my chains is my calling to fame
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| Made in the projects, slave to my progress
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| I only fuck a black girl if she wearing contacts
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| You ain’t gotta talk you still blocked from my contacts
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| She hit me on my MySpace she ever wanna find me
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| I’m way too fly to drive, too drunk to call a cab
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| But I still need a ride to fit a couple girls inside
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| Oh what am I to do? |
| I rent an Uber for the week
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| It’s just another whip on my back, and we don’t pay no tax
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| Cause where I come from, ain’t no body getting shot by the IRS
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| The trap ain’t free, you better realize that
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| But imma get money, no tests on the desk
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| Fuck the SAT’s, smoking Sunday’s best
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| Find me in the ground, only time I regress
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| Six feet down, no I’m not there yet
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| Won’t you meet me in the grave? |
| I got grass on deck
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| So a grave like a slaveship, candy colored spaceship
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| Space like a white girl but ride like a Lexus
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| Leather with an accent, designed by Italians
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| But he ain’t got medallions so maybe he a Mexican
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| But really what’s the difference?
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| I don’t know difference, mirror black and white like a pilgrim
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| Plymouth landed on me like a kickflip
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| Y’all repress this, oppress this
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| Question next is why my mention so menstrual?
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| I be going ham on Ray street eating tofu
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| Loiter at the wholefoods, sipping kombucha
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| Yeah I went green but the black will still do ya
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| Damn, she used to be my number one, past tense
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| Past time chillin, evolved into the villian
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| Sunday school friends
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| In search of second circumcisions
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| Nah, keep your opinions
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| We was mallrats just cheesin' for the pictures
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| Now who can circumvent us? |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song BEN CARSON, artist - BROCKHAMPTON. Album song ALL-AMERICAN TRASH, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп