[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt] I know it don't seem difficult to hit you up But you not passionate about half the shit that you into, and I ain't havin' it And we both know that I don't mean to offend you, I'm just focused today And I don't know why it's difficult to admit that I miss you And I don't know why we argue, and I just hope that you listen And if I hurt you I'm sorry, the music makes me dismissive When I'm awake I'm just drifting, I'm not complaining It's just to say that I stay pretty busy, lately And I could be misbehaving, I just hang with my niggas I'm fuckin' famous if you forgot, I'm faithful Despite all what's in my face and my pocket, and this is painfully honest And when I say it I vomit, on cloudy days when I'm salty I play the hate to the Logic State to state for the profit, it ain't a stain on me, nigga My momma raised me a prophet, I play for dollar incentive And where I'm walking, it's studded, and half-retarded I stumble To where she park when she visit, I grab the bottle and chug it I see the car in the distance, I know the dark isn't coming For the moment, if I could hold it She, she seems that
[Hook: Earl Sweatshirt] All my dreams got dimmer when I stopped smoking pot Nightmares got more vivid when I stopped smoking pot And loving you is a little different, I don't like you a lot You see, it seems like [Verse 2: Frank Ocean] I'm coming back I gotta handle business Vanish to my sleeper seat, left you at terminal three I'll meet you down at baggage claim in a couple weeks, a fortnight And you parade my homecoming, don't cry You know I can't live in any place I visit To live and die in LA I got my Fleetwood Mac, I could get high every day But I'd be sleepy, OCD and paranoid, so Give me Bali beach, no molly, please Palm, no marijuana, trees Your hickies on my aorta, and tattoos you could only see When I'm playing surfboarder, put whisky in that salt water I emptied every canteen just to wear that straight edge varsity you think's cool They thought me soft in High School, thank God I'm jagged Forgot you don't like it rough, I mean he called me a faggot I was just calling his bluff I mean how anal am I gon' be when I'm aiming my gun And why's his mug all bloody, that was a three on one? Standing ovation at Staples I got my Grammy's and gold Polka dots on my Brit, I'm not supposed to be stunting It's all melodic this song, I catch this vibe in my sleep But I'm just jet-lagged is all, and restless
[Hook: Frank Ocean] All my dreams got more vivid when I stopped smoking pot Nightmares got more vivid when I start smoking pot Loving you's a little different I don't like you a lot I mean…fuck
[Outro] I don't know what we're about What good is West Coast weather if you're bi-polar? If I'mma need this sweater, I'd rather be where it's cold Where it snows, I see how it goes I put the flowers in bowls, know they're coming in droves You'll only miss when it goes (Yeah, I think that's it) When it goes…
Compositores: Christopher Breaux, Thebe Kgositsile ECAD: Obra #15418912