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Sunday

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 driftin'

I'm not complainin'

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 laundry

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 thatAll 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 likeI'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

When 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

Yo hickeys 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 restlessAll my dreams got more vivid 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

I mean, fuck

Songwriters

THEBE KGOSITSILE, CHRISTOPHER BREAUXPublished by

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