Grief

Album: I Don't Like S--t, I Don't Go Outside: (2015)
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  • Alright
    Uh, uh, uh

    Good grief, I been reaping what I sow
    Nigga, I ain't been outside in a minute
    I been living what I wrote
    And all I see is snakes in the eyes of these niggas
    Momma taught me how to read 'em when I look
    Miss me at the precinct getting booked
    Fishy niggas stick to eating off of hooks
    Say you eating, but we see you getting cooked, nigga

    I don't act hard, I'm a hard act to follow, nigga
    Like it or not, when it drop, bet he gotta listen
    Chasing dragons, tryna make it happen, on a mission
    Step into the shadows, we could talk addiction
    When it's harmful where you going and the part of you that know it
    Don't give a fuck, pardon me for going into details
    3-7-6 was a brothel
    We had females come in every hour on the dot
    And the shit sound like a gavel when it knock
    Focus on my chatter, ain't as frantic as my thoughts
    Lately I've been panicking a lot
    Feeling like I'm stranded in a mob
    Scrambling for Xanax out the canister to pop
    Never getting out of hand, steady handling my job
    Time damaging my ties
    Who turn to get up? Get dude turned to dinner quick
    You circus niggas, you turning into tricks
    I was making waves, you was surfing in 'em
    Dealing with the stomach pains just from birthing niggas' shit
    Cut the grass off the surface
    Pray the lawnmower blade catch the back of a serpent, nigga, shit
    Bitch

    Good grief, I been reaping what I sow
    Nigga, I ain't been outside in a minute
    I been living what I wrote
    And all I see is snakes in the eyes of these niggas
    Momma taught me how to read 'em when I look
    Miss me at the precinct getting booked
    Fishy niggas stick to eating off of hooks
    Say you eating, but we see you getting cooked, nigga

    I'm fleeting thoughts on a leash
    For the moment, high as fuck
    I've been alone in my shit for the longest
    Snakes sliding in the street
    Mama taught me how to not be like the bodies lying in them
    Pigs, riding in 'em
    I'm a target so it's hard to even eye me in 'em
    If he ain't dying for me, then I ain't riding with him
    There's no time for that
    Making sure my man wallet's straight like a collar
    When you iron that
    Thinking 'bout my grandmama, find a bottle
    I'mma wallow when I lie in that
    I just want my time and my mind intact
    When they both gone, you can't buy 'em back Writer/s: Burt F. Bacharach, Christopher Wallace, Emmanuel Karriem Riggins, Erica Wright, Garry Dewayne Glenn, GARY THOMAS WILSON, Hal David, Osten Harvey, Thebe Kgositsile
    Publisher: BMG Rights Management, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Missing Link Music, PFIVE Entertainment Mexico, Royalty Network, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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