| Grape soda, yeah
|
| (Nosebleeds at the crucifixion, yah)
|
| Grape soda, yeah
|
| I’m sucking on that appearance dope
|
| And peeping you through the periscope us
|
| Someone looks cause I’m too OG
|
| Write them scripts like I’m Truman Capote
|
| Isolated that chord structure
|
| And my loose thoughts become an oil gusher
|
| But I’m burning with a born lover
|
| And she’s heating up on that spoon again
|
| Soothe dark, the perfect gold earrings
|
| For snapping jaws at a parole hearing
|
| I subvert my niggas' class envy
|
| With my good taste cause I don’t have any
|
| I’ll buy a high with that black penny
|
| In Baton Rouge with the dealed-up plates
|
| She needs imaginary real estate
|
| So my blood sugars, I’m a drug pusher
|
| What’s a song worth against the price of dope?
|
| A break’s a bitch with the right approach
|
| When you fake the pain and then you fight the rope
|
| And go a bit insane as you light the roach
|
| Then just melt into this kaleidoscope
|
| I love you too much to deny you that
|
| And destroy your little vice with a cyber hat
|
| Cause I love you too much to deny you that
|
| Mystified, she hit «reply»
|
| And told me that she can’t stay sober
|
| Thinks that I make her fly
|
| Baby girl, it will change over
|
| Mystified, she hit «reply»
|
| And told me that she can’t stay sober
|
| Begged the girl, and beg my world
|
| It feels like grape soda
|
| (There's no need for me to even explain)
|
| Grape soda
|
| (It's so crazy when I’m counting up that bank)
|
| Grape
|
| Now you’re going through the mix, it’s grape soda
|
| Doing business with them gangsters
|
| Nosebleeds at the crucifixion, yah
|
| With Jerusalem on ice, the crown with Louis Vuitton spike on
|
| I knew right or wrong he was doing aight on sight
|
| And if I wax this poetry and I asked you slow but
|
| I shrugged like Atlas, with the blessing in the bank
|
| Stressin' like I need a Tylenol
|
| Parachutes a message inside of a molotov
|
| No limit is wrong, grippin' the mic like the weaponized olive stalk stole
|
| Livin' a lie in the heights with the oligarchs
|
| Maybe if I smile I can get a slice
|
| Trifecta for the style, blood sugar spice
|
| God damn, black and milds nearly took my life
|
| I’mma throw a who could suffice
|
| Twenty-five miles to the nearest light
|
| Fear alike for globe Fahrenheit
|
| Fear alike, catch your foes like a deer in light
|
| FOMO in the sold out paradise
|
| Now I know why the old folks slo-mo
|
| Now I know why the caged parrot carry on
|
| Every day, episode Black Mirror show
|
| Every day, grape soda and cereal
|
| Free my nigga Will, wish I could visit right now
|
| Check in the back way, til you be in the ashtray
|
| Til you see the cache
|
| Right behind us, I needed life
|
| Right beside the money and vice
|
| Color dice with numbers society
|
| 99 cent high fructose think they’re violent, shit
|
| (There's no need for me to even explain)
|
| Grape soda
|
| (It's so crazy when I’m counting up that bank)
|
| Grape
|
| Now you’re going through the mix, it’s grape soda
|
| Doing business with them gangsters
|
| Bounce to the movement from the bass drop
|
| You were clocking in the hours at the pot farm
|
| my relationship it goes in the bank shot
|
| Bank shot, bank shot, bank shot
|
| Baby girl, it will change over
|
| Grape soda
|
| There’s no need for me to even explain |