Cancion : Grown Ups
Artista : Earl Sweatshirt
Album : I Don't Like Shit, I Don't Go Outside
Url : https://www.letras10.co/letra-grown-ups-de-earl-sweatshirt


[Produced by RandomBlackDude]

[Intro]
I don't give a fuck, nigga
So why'd they evict you, bro?

[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt & Da$h]
Feel this cage when that acid fade
Face the same, but your mind has changed
You desire a stable home, I acquire fame at naming hoes
Contemplating ways of getting dome, plotting on my neighbors
Asking God for favors, guess he isn’t home
Probably 'cause that fucking faith I didn't show
Skipping church, flip the work
Hit the dirt like Tommy Drummond, bitch
Grew up in a home that papa wasn’t in
Came up off of work that my conscience wasn't in
Either way it goes, a lot is getting hit
And if it wasn’t hoes, then it probably was a lick
Got burners on my soul, and my posse on my skin
Sweaty, D-A-Dolla, top lotto picks
Promise that I'm not the one to fucking plot against
Love him, but my father ain't my motherfucking friend
Trying to figure out how to start a motherfucking end
Huh, trend dodging, keep a bitch by me, bank roll
Garbage bag full of sins, cleanse my soul to rap still, nigga
Cash is in hand, packs get vac sealed, like the Tin Man
Cardiac still missing, is it past real, get it, work, make Guinness

[Hook: Earl Sweatshirt]
Don't know where I'm going, don't know where I been
Never trust these hoes, can't even trust my friends
Tell that bitch to roll up, you fucking with some grown ups
Don't know where I'm going, don't know where I been
Never trust these hoes, can't even trust my friends
Tell that bitch to roll up, you fucking with some grown ups

[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt & Da$h]
My mama wonder why it never seem to reach
See my daddy in the way I'm acting and my facial features
Just trying to put you on, dawg, I came from teachers
Take the plate and clean it, nigga, I'm a dog
Tell her "hit or miss me with the fucking monologue"
Lord, I can't fight it, know I'm tryna brawl
Get a copper hauled off, shit
I'm the type of nigga that you cop your raw off
Popping whores off
Grab the ball and these niggas call charge
Team switching jerseys like it's All Star
Press the OnStar, think we all lost


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