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No Faces (Featuring Danny Brown) - Tree



     
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No Faces (Featuring Danny Brown) Lyrics


Man I got bitches on the phone
Hoes down in the basement
2, 3, 4, won't leave me 'lone
They know I'll replace 'em
Got a product get me gone
Big tits, tiny waist'es
But the ass is fully grown
I don't see no facesListen, men, they come from mars
Women come from venus
Jet hair long, she got the bomb
Ass big as Serena's
Getting head down in the dorms
And now you in eastern
Illinois, we did a porn
I make sure we leaks it
Bitch we sippin' Jägerbombs
On some Texas Six Street
On my reefer then they gone

I be chiefin', ain't no secret
Hoes I did 'em like my father do it
Pimping cold, embalming fluid
Ballin' out, vamonos
Getting money, bound to throw it
Carmen soft as Charmin
She brought Kesha and Alicia
All these broads, they steady callin'
We just let 'em off they leashes
We don't sign no leases
Cuff 'em for the evenin'
We just fuck 'em and delete 'em
In the mornin' never see 'em
Then it's right back to the strip
Right back to the gold
I said, bitch don't give me lip
'less it come with SKOAL
Fifty thousand on the whip
Couple hunneds for the clothes
2-3 thousand for the trip
So I never paid a ho
I step back to 'vess in that Acura
Immaculate with that spatula
Accurate with that MAC and clip
Might smack a bitch and I live with it
Fall up and I cream south
Wrong field with that green note
Field dropping, that seal poppin'
We still coppin', we love this ho'
Movin' up on that liquor store
Drop a face on a?
Pocket full of that go get it
Tell the ho' to just go with it
Wood grain in that old-school
Grip the wheel and my chrome, too
Fuck around with you fuck-arounds
You fuck around, I might smoke you
Now your bitch on my dickaling
Got you stretching like Yao Ming
Step on that like?
Got more smack than a tambourine
Now everything designer
Bitches getting finer
Call me up on that phone
Fucked up her eyeliner
Now your bitch she call my phone
But I don't never pick up
Only if it's money calling
The only way that I pick up
Now your bitch she call my phone
But I would never pick up
Only if it's money calling
The only way that I pick up
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Most artists set out with the goal of staking out a claim to a style that's uniquely theirs, but few do so quite as adamantly as Tree, the Chicago rapper who's been gathering accolades over the past two years with the signature musical blend he calls “soul trap.” It's pretty much exactly what it sounds like: Production that offers the steady comfort of old classics, chopping up familiar soul samples or incorporating orchestral stabs, and warm, sympathetic lyrical takes on the struggles and successes that characterize life in his home city.

Read more about Tree on Last.fm.


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Tree