[Verse 1: Childish Gambino]
Okay
Money ain't a thing except for like always
Used to make a stack and have to split that shit four ways
Eatin' a cheese croquette
Beer garden these bitches
Flow wasabi lie to me
Feeling so Sid Vicious
Woke up and did dishes
N***a that's my dirty work
Back when white kids would say "not"
Nerd Alert
I would watch Carmen Sandiego and get my feelings hurt
I wanna do that man
Hard like a lap dance
Call a lady friend and get that head like a CAT scan
Hit the blue dream
CPR my smoke
'Bino not your favorite rapper cause your favorite rapper broke
He a joke dude
Why you fucking with him let me coach you
Its the eyebrow n***a with the fucked up hair
And we drink brown liquor at the compound with the lights down
And her nightgown is nothing so I'm fucking
Right?
Sometimes I'm in the middle of that shit and I'm like
"This is what I wanted"
Fuck I must be blunted
Was that out loud we want hunnit
Is that shit straight?
Gambino more childish than a kid's play
Instead of an ashtray I use your mixtape
With my n***a EAE then we gotta be
[Verse 2: Erick Arc Elliot]
Stop the fussing I am a glutton
Motherfucking your discussions
I rap with substance
Alcoholic drinks
We assemble 3D
'Bino D-von I am Buh-Buh Ray
Fuck another match I wrestle cats with wisdom everyday
Part of the game is missing
Never could fall a victim but I fixed it
Switch positions to assist myself
Passes to the glass
Not pasteurizing the past
But milking it for its worth
Now pastors are on my ass
I keep that shorty around like the merry go
Fuck her like a gigolo
Drink until my liver gone
And bambam like I'm Bigelow
Trees up in a bong
Double D's up in her bra
In the hood we spit them verses while the white boys play guitar
I'm so un raw and never go off
Incredible feats a n***a is beast
I'm just making the beats
I never unleashed the lion though I'm trying to
Your heart is still with Zion too
Find that solitude but only rapper n***as I include
Intellect not the instrument
Fuck the world I got the biggest dick
Take you on this ego trip
Pack your bags popping tags
A woman is not a shopping bag she just shops at Saks
I fill her with my juice now shes loose and on on my slacks
So what is all this
Better get up off it
And proceed with caution
Dream killers we making them nauseous
Putting them in these coffins
Forever dumping never sweating records
If your records represent your resting place this is the grave
That Heaven made