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Earl Sweatshirt lyrics : "Centurion Feat Vince Staples"

[Intro: Vince Staples]
I feel like the Tom Sawyer for real ^!$$%s
Looking for a problem, revolver under the Hilfiger

No bluff needed, we will kill ^!$$%s
So try me if you want, bruh, I promise I'm with all of that
Late night shooters, got 'em thinking Johnny Carson back

Trying to win this white man game with my heart intact
All off a dollar and a dream that I really had
Kind of hard to sleep when your thoughts is in the streets

North north is the side where my family stay
Big Baby Jesus, I can't wait
Until the money coming in, spend it all on guns and rims

I ain't nothing but a ^!$$%, ain't no reason to pretend

[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]

Kept the sticky in the Stussy pouch
Ski mask, bloody 'Preme hoodie tossing doobies out
The window of the hoopty, night black as Paul

Mooney at the movies but the moon was out
Food was always optional
Eating nothing but hard punches to that abdominal

Closed fist chronicles, sold sniff, Momma knew
Baggies laying 'round, peanut shells at a carnival
Stomping clowns, welcome #~!!@ ^!$$%s to the romper room

Buckshot'll cover a whole torso like a parka do
In a park at 2, plotting, trying to garner loot
Split it with his big roll dog, call him Marmaduke

Searching for a shard of truth and found uh
Couple bucks bought his cousins lunch
Another Dutch, stiff collar on the button-up

Hood, rich, wild, and 'bout to run amok
Road to hell paved with cement, covered trussled drugs, toughen up


[Hook x2]
"Alright, okay
If that's how you truly feel about it, then."


[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
Vinny Stape, they stupid, think the city safe

Until that little bindi placed, headshots, red dot
Block as hot as Denny plates, fed watch, Fed watch
Opinions only pity based, deep in the Civic with the

Evilest ^!$$%s this side of the Mississippi
All courtesy of Vincent from ^!$$%s who plot against
Ear-L-double-S, hear shells from the Tec

Hear in full-effect, eat a dick and cut a check, (*##$
Few ^!$$%s I'm on a first-name basis with
Address me by the alias, that trunk weighted like he

'Bout to catch a case again, eighths louder than the voice of
Satan that be plaguing him, bruh, I'm caking
Whether Hell or bad weather, high water, I'm a sailor-type

Assailant for the paper, living like I met the maker twice
Hit it 'til I'm faded right? Mami, take a hike
Or treat it like you $#&@ing shaking dice, (*##$


[Hook x2]

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