Earl Sweatshirt Wool song lyrics

Yeah yeah yeah

Soon as I catch the vibe tell 'em to fetch the hearse

Shorty I'm pressin' lines lifting the Lauren shirt

Tell her to bless the girth if she with it

I'm in that kitchen, wrist water whippin'

(psych) Work nigga, I don't do that

Niggas get bloop-blapped and blown away

Wessons making Mexicans wetbacks like órale

Okay, I'm on to something

Momma should've told you it'd be days like this

It's just a tale from the crip

I'm on my séance shit, I'm tryna' make a million dollars

Keep it hood while crossing over on some A.I. shit

I need a foreign baby momma to match a nigga model whip

Ramona Park made me from scratch

A lot of lotto picks lost inside this game called rap

I be the underdog

Bullet hit his forehead, it exit out his under arm

Ain't nobody bigger than my hood, my nigga, fuck a boss

Baby momma killer, you offended and I fuck her raw

Stretchy doin' federal time for bustin' at the law

And he gonna be a neighbor of mine, you play me for a pawn

Shorty I be swimmin' with sharks, your posse full of prawns

Pistols rip his body apart, now he afraid of dark alleyways

Niggas better listen when the pastor say

It's Golf on that-- bitch, it's Golf on that ball cap

I guzzle the tall boy, Jehovah ain't call back

And ya'll still debating over Earl music

Troops got the group nationwide moving merch units crazy

Peanut butter to paisley, walking down the street

In the different color McGrady's, that first grader was me

Now my fist full of spliffs and the old banker receipts

Bitches grip the stick and jerky like cold shanks of the beef, dry

I'm taking purses like they chances in the evening

Pick your pants up, boy, you dancing with a demon

On my momma I been limiting my features, filling swishers up with reefer

Bitch, it's difficult to beat him like a soft dick

Golf clique deep and we don't hit the streets passive

That nigga Sweaty got the gas and Shreddy k brought the matches

Put your body down in water like a Lipton tea bag and then

Switch to different fucking whip to let them piggies speed past 'em

It's the rats, try and get the cheese What it do? Rap like I'm mincing meat

Call me Lou, if I'm on the track, these niggas skip to me

Niggas want to fade me, bitches feel some type of way for me

50's in my pocket falling out like fucking baby teeth

Vince be with the rocket, he gone pop it when it's danger round

Fingertips to tapers, now, salute us when you face us

Give a fuck about the moves all these loser niggas making now