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Thumbs up for the go-getters
The ambitionless are pissed they should know better
No debtor we owe nothing but hard work
Inverse of Brett Favre frontin' doing yard work
No wrangler's, 38/38 on my 501's till I'm angered
Then them jawns rip up, cuz' I'm on it
Skin gets jaundiced the hulk got cornered
Time to just bomb shit, rockets been launched
And your pretty boy shirt got dumped in the garbage
Now you fucked cuz' your book gets judged
Cuz' your cover's in another dumpster looking all slumped
They did away with that, you think you'll make it back
With no history you'll never make your paperback
Used to think you'd always be a best seller
Didn't count on those 12 year olds talkin' to their elders
FUCK YEAH when them hands go up
I demand that we stand for the fans in us
The lines been blurred
I'm trying to fight the urge
To sip something strong enough to help me fight my nerves
I got my words, they've been penned
Written Thursday Mixtape on the Way and it's dirtier than Pig Pen
I've got a feeling there's about to be a shitstorm
Tired of these backwards men I'm like I'm Rip Torn

Back at it like an automatic
Sip-sip cheap liquor 'till I'm leaning backwards
Young English – helped me write the chapters
Black Paisley
Yes we go hard. Who said we go hard?
I said we go hard. Who said we go hard? (4x)

The old days were great but we're past them
We still here to rear our new passions
We fight fear with vices toast glasses
Smoke pot and fuck like we never took classes
And never learned shit
But we earned our hurt and pain
From our scars and mistakes
And with that being said I'm about to make a few more
Breath of fresh air I am living in a humidor
So temperate, i've been bent since week 17
But I'm never on the bench
No rest already said it, ethic is embedded
And I'll never let it slip cuz' its a natural anesthetic
Keep it organic for the ladies with the pit hair
Throwing up they fists at my shows like shit yeah
Demographics don't matter when your thoughts stay scattered
And you dabble in dodging the old wagon
Fuck that convictions get shattered
No riddles to be solved mad hatter lost his magic
Hat number nine trippin' off the turpentine
Grippin' something steady enough to keep the work alive
And I'm living that, and trying to give it back
Grown man shit callouses and jaded raps
Hair on my chest, I sweat when I fuck
My speakers don't hammer they put dents in your trunk

Text přidal soulmateAndy

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