Atmosphere - WND lyrics

It's summer, and I'm chilling on my steps
With my little crew just like the videos
Just like all the little rappers do
We voice love to the heads
We know that walk past sunshine and smiling
Living out of a shot glass
And I talk fast when it comes to girls
Hey baby I'm just a nut
Trying to fuck a squirrel
Maybe we could shut the world up
Let some slug into your life
Suddenly she hypes an eyebrow up, like
"What do you mean?" and
I start bugging like
"If I was to follow you
Home would you keep me
Would you feed me, would you pet me
Would I fuck you till you're sleepy?"
She said I'm creepy, and walked off
Too late, i already got off on the
Fact you even stopped
You knew I'd treat you like an object
You knew I was a rapper
You knew it was the trend
For us rapper men to disrespect
Women in front of friends
Nonetheless here comes that kid Sean that
I used to be cool with went to school with
Now this kid is talking fool shit
Getting supper touchy with his lips about
How I stuck his bitch supposedly
What the fuck is this supposed to be
Sean's got nuts, he's alone, I'm with crew
Now tell me what the fuck am I supposed to do
I spew look here
This makes believers of cartoons
And I happen to know your bitch
Sleeps in until the afternoon
Honestly, my man, you don't bother me
Cause Everybody bleeds
Now go and ask your seed who his father be

I'm like "What, What"
(I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What"
(I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What"
(I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What"
(I'm like) "What Kid What"

Now Sean kicked my ass, I ain't gonna lie
Ain't gonna laugh
It wasn't fun, but fuck 'em
I'mma get my gun
Shit gets done like that in the world of rap
If they pushing on ya vibe
You just a pussy if it slides
So I sprint up three flights
Didn't do the feet wipe at the door
Dragging dirt and blood on the rug
And the wood floor
Couldn't believe my squad just
Stood there and watched word to God
Spawn is telling me to blame it on my cock
I'm amped
And I'mma shoot every motherfucker out there
I'm ill, and I'm gonna prove that shit
When I get back downstairs into the bedroom
My passion aimed at the closet
Visualizing the top shelf
That's where the shoebox is
I push the top up, enough to fit my hand in
Reach into the box in a frenzy
Realizing that it's empty
Hand rests in the box
Head festers in an open stun
Then I remember, I don't even own a gun

"What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What"
(I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What"
(I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What"
(I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What
(I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What, What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What, What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What"
(I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What, What, What"

Writers Never Die writers Never Die
Writers Never Die writers Never Die