Текст песни 45 (feat. Earl Sweatshirt)

Open up the case on 'em Set his own pace, peeped the rats, wasn't racing with 'em Made it out the maze, haze with the stanky odor Simmer down my brain when I can't control it Nigga, where your chips? You should bet 'em on him Call the vet he barking, hear him and the mess he started Nigga, they keep a eye on me, I am not a child artist I raised the bar and hit a chin-up for a while on it Life a long ride, my niggas up for it My bitches down for me cause I stay a buck-fifty Angel City drought time, why the fuck I'm up fifty Playing like I'm down five? They can't really fuck with me Let a nigga sizzle in the pan if he wanna Los Angeles area annual summer, we burning under it Learned from taking chances and fumbling Nigga I was taught to take your rations and guzzle 'em, bitch