| What’s good good?
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| And what’s good evil?
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| And what’s good gangstas?
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| And what’s good people?
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| And whys God’s phone die every time that I call on Him?
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| If his son had a Twitter wonder if I would follow him
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| Swallow them synonyms like cinnamon Cinnabon
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| Keep all them sentiments down to a minimum
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| Studious Gluteus Maxim models is sending him
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| Pics of they genitalia tallied up ten of em
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| I slurped too many pain-kills, downing em off a lot
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| I got a lot off days but it ain’t often that I’m off the clock
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| Ya’know I mean?
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| I got the Chicago Blues
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| We invented rock before the Stones got through
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| We just aiming back cause the cops shot you
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| Buck buck bang bang, yelling «Fuck Fox News!»
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| Booyaka buckle up, mothafuck ops too
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| Ain’t no knuckling up em young cause it just not cool
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| Nice to see you Father New Year
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| Middle finger Uncle Samuel
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| Shooting death with weighted dice
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| And hitting stains on birthday candles
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| I know somebody, somebody loves my ass
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| Cause they help me beat my demons ass
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| Everybody’s somebody’s everything
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| I know you right
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| Nobody’s nothing
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| That’s right
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| Right? |
| IGH
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| I used to tell hoes I was dark light or off white
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| But I’d fight if a nigga said that I talk white
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| And both my parents was black
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| But they saw it fit that I talk right
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| With my drawers hid but
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| My hard head stayed in the clouds like a lost kite
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| But gravity had me up in a submission hold
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| Like I’m dancing with the Devil with two left feet and I’m pigeon toed
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| In two small point ballet shoes with a missing sole
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| And two missing toes
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| But it’s love like Cupid kissing a mistletoe
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| Like Cassius ducking the draft and now the fight is over
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| The type to love from a distance not the type that told her
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| Spent three days on the rap, trash it and type it over
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| With babies on the block under arms like fighting odors
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| Coppers and «as
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| Hold ya head like 2Pac had taught
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| Obviously they are on a come up
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| With better chances tobogganing in the fucking summer
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| Concoctions for the bad days and a condom for the good ones
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| All odds against we tryna get lucky
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| Doper than Nucky
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| You’re ending happy that’s only a tuggy
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| Like Satan masturbating shit come hot
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| But y’all still love me ugh
|
| How father time a deadbeat
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| Maybe I’m adopted
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| That’ll explain why all of my shit been so timeless IGH |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Everybody's Something , by - Chance The Rapper. Song from the album Acid Rap, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп