Stove God Cooks, Earl Sweatshirt - Cocaine On My Sweatshirt lyrics
[Stove God Cooks, Earl Sweatshirt - Cocaine On My Sweatshirt lyrics]
My litter the livest, word to my little guy
Quiet dog with the biggest bite
I'ma give the spliff the Heimlich
Till' we hit the highway
Al say "keep it low" like Whittaker eye
Too many disguises, you moving shifty
It was shit I couldn't set aside yet
Mr hyde, I quit fraternizing
The picture on the dresser
Yellowing with time
Wax dripping down the candelabra
I think about the tribe
In the midnight marauding
Like Tip and Phife, deep in at night
King clip the ticket on the big fish, pricey
Smart Pisces, you got heart off the dribble
You not quick like me
Kweli how I'm gettin' by
Don't reach Zim Zimma it's nothing to find
On me, know when to hide from the storm
I got that wet work, Ouuu
(I got that wet work, Ouuu)
My young boy Tec work, Ouuu
(His Tec work, Ouuu)
Shoot you out your sweatshirt, Ouu-uu
(Ouu-uu)
Cocaine on my sweatshirt, Ouu-uu (Ouu-uu)
Cook it to the Ouu-uu
Don't just pull up bitch text first Ouu-uu
The recipe was etched in stone
We measured it up on the stove
Blew a hundred rap mummies out the trap tomb
(Woo)
You can smell it burning in the bathroom
(You can)
It's black on the back of the spoon
Cash rules (Cash rules everything)
I learned the ropes and start Lassoing (Go)
I don't stop till' we drop the last-o-in
(Woo) they said he got heart
But is you bread or owing?
Footprint on it, you better know it
Shooter put that lightning to your face
Now you David Bowie (Wooooo)
Fish scale had the hood fish grease, six keys
Stuff it in the sew back of the Benz seat
Victory had to get a bag pre-conventionally
It's risky the wrist key, the god home
The slick back: Billy Dee (I'm back)
You can't dive into that shallow shit
I'm really deep (I'm really deep)
This shit really pop, this really wok
I'm really sleep (Ha, we really sleep)
I'm really heat stove Jesus, holding my pie
And whippin' the fuck, this shit's peaches
One Twelve on the scale, it quadrupled even
He like, "Stove but is it good?" I'm
Like "Shit it's decent"
I got that wet work, Ouuu
(I got that wet work, Ouuu)
My young boy Tec work, Ouuu
(His Tec work, Ouuu)
Shoot you out your sweatshirt, Ouu-uu
(Ouu-uu)
Cocaine on my sweatshirt, Ouu-uu (Ouu-uu)
Cook it to the Ouu-uu
Don't just pull up bitch text first Ouu-uu
Quiet dog with the biggest bite
I'ma give the spliff the Heimlich
Till' we hit the highway
Al say "keep it low" like Whittaker eye
Too many disguises, you moving shifty
It was shit I couldn't set aside yet
Mr hyde, I quit fraternizing
The picture on the dresser
Yellowing with time
Wax dripping down the candelabra
I think about the tribe
In the midnight marauding
Like Tip and Phife, deep in at night
King clip the ticket on the big fish, pricey
Smart Pisces, you got heart off the dribble
You not quick like me
Kweli how I'm gettin' by
Don't reach Zim Zimma it's nothing to find
On me, know when to hide from the storm
I got that wet work, Ouuu
(I got that wet work, Ouuu)
My young boy Tec work, Ouuu
(His Tec work, Ouuu)
Shoot you out your sweatshirt, Ouu-uu
(Ouu-uu)
Cocaine on my sweatshirt, Ouu-uu (Ouu-uu)
Cook it to the Ouu-uu
Don't just pull up bitch text first Ouu-uu
The recipe was etched in stone
We measured it up on the stove
Blew a hundred rap mummies out the trap tomb
(Woo)
You can smell it burning in the bathroom
(You can)
It's black on the back of the spoon
Cash rules (Cash rules everything)
I learned the ropes and start Lassoing (Go)
I don't stop till' we drop the last-o-in
(Woo) they said he got heart
But is you bread or owing?
Footprint on it, you better know it
Shooter put that lightning to your face
Now you David Bowie (Wooooo)
Fish scale had the hood fish grease, six keys
Stuff it in the sew back of the Benz seat
Victory had to get a bag pre-conventionally
It's risky the wrist key, the god home
The slick back: Billy Dee (I'm back)
You can't dive into that shallow shit
I'm really deep (I'm really deep)
This shit really pop, this really wok
I'm really sleep (Ha, we really sleep)
I'm really heat stove Jesus, holding my pie
And whippin' the fuck, this shit's peaches
One Twelve on the scale, it quadrupled even
He like, "Stove but is it good?" I'm
Like "Shit it's decent"
I got that wet work, Ouuu
(I got that wet work, Ouuu)
My young boy Tec work, Ouuu
(His Tec work, Ouuu)
Shoot you out your sweatshirt, Ouu-uu
(Ouu-uu)
Cocaine on my sweatshirt, Ouu-uu (Ouu-uu)
Cook it to the Ouu-uu
Don't just pull up bitch text first Ouu-uu