Sightseeing spree
Cracka blast
Crime
Know me
A youngboi 'bout some fuckshit
Sailor Moon on me
Why do you say why
They don't know me
Why do you say why
They don't know me
Shouts out to Vyvanse
Nah
I don't give a fuck
Why do you say why
I don't give a fuck
My spirits go down fine
I have lyrics and sound fine
I have serious downtime
So why
I must say, it was about last week
Last week
Last week
Last week
Last week, I had a check
Did
Some other things
My stomach said
It's stuck fluttering
Now, I'm broke amongst other things
Aloft, I stutter things
Go off and under things
A healthy coloring
Or
Paints to the picture of me
I hate stepping
Stomping, breaking shit to slivers
CDs
I congregate into a mystery
Like Mr. Who Me
Yo, yo
I just want some cash right now
And a rolling tray
That glass one
Behind the counter
Sounds to pass a high encounter
Crowds en masse
Right some power
Iridescent dances
Eyelids
A dying disco
Frisco that
Like, yo
If it's sap
Sip
Damn
I love lots of trees
Peonies
Being me
Sceneries
And seeing things
Sometimes, you think a lot
You think a ton
You think too much
And now, you think you're seeing things
Drinking sweetness through the packet
And it never really fails you or me
Conversations
About what's happening
Dreaming
Of meteors and comets
I can't quite control them
Yet
Hide a Strawberita
Pour it in a coffee cup
A mamacita pullin' up
I'm harboring a monocle
I eat enough
I'm old enough
I'm hardly fucking sold on what
The moral of
The more of us
The storming gusts
Of whoring lots of drugs, so
Uh-huh
Hell yeah
About right
We ain't worried about nothing
Me and my Bubs stay jumping
Uh, yuh, yuh
Hm
Tampa