| Drop from the cloud, hit the ground runnin'
|
| Ghost in the bottle float round, I’m haunted
|
| Ooh, the sour way too loud for me
|
| Turn the volume all the way down on me
|
| I just wanna learn how to drown, let me
|
| Ooh, you so holier than thou, it’s funny
|
| Tryna be more myself, love me
|
| Tryna be more myself, don’t ask me nothin'
|
| I’m far too stupid, you’re far too angry
|
| Don’t ask me nothin', don’t ask me nothin'
|
| Prolly make a few mistakes
|
| Get it backwards, I bet you can’t wait to see it happen
|
| Well, fuck it, yeah
|
| Leave me there in the middle of the bridge while you’re choppin' at the edges
|
| Yeah
|
| Revenge is a dish served pipin' hot before breakfast
|
| Yeah
|
| Seasoned with best intentions, tweet it, check your mentions
|
| I’m too hungry for a Twitter feed
|
| I’m too hungry for a soundbite, uh
|
| I’m just tryna be a better me
|
| Tryna do the shit in real life, uh
|
| A little hole for the down pipe
|
| Make it air tight
|
| And it’s been too long
|
| But I still know how to make a sweet Gatorade bong
|
| Yeah
|
| And I don’t really smoke no more
|
| Yeah
|
| But, boy, you keep eggin' me on
|
| Don’t reply, just let me go smoke on my own
|
| It’s nothing personal, it’s nothing personal (Ladies and gentlemen,
|
| Mr Don Joyride)
|
| Don’t reply, just let me go smoke on my own
|
| It’s nothing personal, it’s nothing personal
|
| Yeah
|
| Man, it’s like wait, wait, wait
|
| No, that ain’t what I meant, gimme time to explain
|
| Wait, wait, wait
|
| I’m just tryna ask why I don’t really feel no way
|
| Wait, wait, wait
|
| Fine, tell me where to sign, tell me what I wanna say
|
| Wait, wait, wait
|
| Fine
|
| Well, fuck your feelings, fuck your blogs
|
| Fuck opinions, fuck your Gods
|
| Fuck your channels, fuck your feed, fuck your judgement
|
| I don’t need it, please don’t ask me nothin', I’m too weeded
|
| Best of luck, I truly mean it
|
| He’s a snowflake, she’s a cuck
|
| He’s with them or she’s with us, I’m just tryna be a better me
|
| Tryna do the shit in real life, uh
|
| Yeah, fuck stardom
|
| Yeah, fuck bein' famous, fuck bein' A-list
|
| Fuck tryna make it, it’s just too dangerous
|
| It’s way more fun when they don’t know what your name is
|
| Way more fun just gettin' faded
|
| Yeah, there’s too much fakeness
|
| Too many traitors, too many sadists
|
| Pourin' out champagne for your failures
|
| I’ma steal a bit of hose from the neighbours
|
| It’s been too long
|
| But I still know how to make a sweet Gatorade bong
|
| Yeah
|
| And I don’t really smoke no more
|
| Yeah
|
| But, boy, you keep eggin' me on
|
| And it’s been too long
|
| But I still know how to make a sweet Gatorade bong
|
| Yeah
|
| And I don’t really smoke no more
|
| Yeah
|
| But, boy, you keep eggin' me on, eggin' me on
|
| Don’t reply, just let me go smoke on my own
|
| It’s nothing personal, it’s nothing personal
|
| Don’t reply, just let me go smoke on my own
|
| It’s nothing personal, it’s nothing personal |