Autumn in the couch, hot, handsome, you're funny, cute, lovely, and I'm a butt, dressed for a funeral,
begging you to sit for a portrait on the wall, to hang in the dark of some parliamentary hall.
I stay home alive, no TV, just thoughts, and a Hebrew good weed, same jeans, same old converse,
baby's in the Wally, so works, I'm cool, some niggas mad at it, look at it from the outside, fantastic,
can't keep the negative alive, baby, I'm my dick gift kid, could he die, don't cry, I hate her,
I forgive, now go and get my album, and get off my dick, I smile and I'm pleasant, the weed is the essence,
but if I'm in the club, we could catch shit up, I'm talking about shots, they can listen to us,
I said you're gonna raise, you should be all about it, I ain't take another shot for your soft dream,
on campaign, I'm the mother of a boss, get to suck my balls, do pipe, I never sick of bike,
cause I'm on mine, all my life, wanna do some major, now every little thing I do might make it in the paper.
Oh yeah, version of my yeah, oh yeah, version of my yeah, oh yeah, version of my yeah.
It is, oh my god!
Oh yeah, version of my yeah, oh yeah, version of my yeah, oh yeah, version of my yeah.
