Grown Ups - Earl Sweatshirt
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Grown Ups Lyrics
Feel this cage when that acid fade
Face the same but your mind has changed
You desire a stable home
I acquire fame at naming hoes
Contemplating ways of getting dome
Plotting on my neighbors
Asking God for favors
Guess he isn't home
Probably 'cause that fucking faith I didn't show
Skippin church, flip the work
Hit a dirt, like Tommy run it bitch
Grew up in a home that papa wasn't in
Came up of of work that my conscience wasn't in
Either way it goes, a lot is getting hit
And if it wasn't hoes, then it probably was a lick
Got burners on my soul, and my posse on my skin
Sweaty they ain't dollar top lotto picks
Promise that I am not the one to fucking plot against
Love him, but my father ain't my mother fucking friend
Trying to figure out how to start a mother fucking end
Trend dodging, keep a bitch by me
Back roll
Garbage bag full of sand
Place myself the rap stale
Cash is in hand
Packs get vac sealed
Like the Tin Man
Cardiac Stillness
Missing past real, in it, words make dentistsDon't know where I'm going, don't know where I been
Never trust these hoes, don't even trust my friends
Tell that bitch to roll up, fucking with some grown ups
Don't know where I'm going, don't know where I been
Never trust these hoes, don't even trust my friends
Tell that bitch to roll up, fucking with some grown upsMy mama wonder why it never seem to reach
See my Daddy in the way I'm acting
And my facial features
Just trying to put you on
Dog I came from teachers
Take the plate and clean it
Nigga I'm a dog
Tell her hit or miss me with the fucking monologue
Lord I can't fight it
Know I'm tryna brawl
Get a cop a hog dog chick
I'm the type of nigga that you cop your raw off
Popping hoes off
Grab the board and these niggas call charge
Chain switches jerseys like it's all star
Press the on star
Think it's all lost
Songwriters
DARIEN DASH, THEBE KGOSITSILEPublished by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.