Vince Staples — Get The Fuck Off My Dick

Слушать Vince Staples — Get The Fuck Off My Dick

Текст Vince Staples — Get The Fuck Off My Dick

Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my art or my bitch
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my car or my crib
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick
Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my car or my crib
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my art or my bitch
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick
Yeah, I ain’t taking no more calls, might think bout calling it quits
Press is trying to block my blessings, no more talking to Vince
NPR and XXL man I can’t tell which is which

Mr. Mark, I think my label need a marketing switch
Hold up, switch the flow up, I won’t roll for nothing
Rappers ho up, then they blow up, guess who do the fucking?
VMA and Grammy snubbing
Not walking through no clubs, homie you can keep your money
It don’t do nothing for me
Heard they looking for me yeah, you’se a dummy yeah
Have somebody find your body parts, run and run it yeah
Ay bay bay, ain’t for play
Steal the steaks, steal the RAF
(And them RAF’s is ugly by the way, we see you got money to spend but none the
less)
Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my art or my bitch
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my car or my crib
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick

Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my car or my crib
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my art or my bitch
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick
I’m from Ramona, no school diploma
We caught him slipping, he in a coma
You got two choices, lose your life or your persona
I still voices from them nights I hit the corners
Walked through the MoMA
Just did the feature, hit the scene, and blew the quota
I might for the sofa
Might save my Nike check and spend my Coca-Cola
Don’t count my packets, pocket and you tow up
Time to glow up from the from up and

You don’t know my bank, bitch don’t act like you don’t know my name
Don’t record me man, bitch you see me trying to board this plane
Don’t you touch my frame, still the one who bust you in the brain
I don’t fuck with fame, you don’t see me in no fucking chains
Ain’t no fucking slave, Def Jam make ’em put me on no pay
This the sound I made, won’t nobody knock me off my wave
I’m the god in this, fuck up off my dick
Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my art or my bitch
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my car or my crib
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick
Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my car or my crib
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man my art or my bitch
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick