Lyrics EARTHGANG – Masturpeace

Ok
Bad news
Phone call ’em
So called

Dressing up for casualties, R.I.P
Penny T’s, R.I.P Pendergrass, teddy bears in the street
I can barely bear to be a better me
Best believe, Momma own last first
Best worst enemy
Oh Lord
Old Ford, Old Dodge, old dude, hodge podge
Hot porridge in the soles of my feet
Shotty solo, 47 killing souls for free
Empty handed Moss and the kids pissing on my knee
Hold on, gotta breathe
Ok, funny how laughing hard make you crazy
Crazy how crying soft make you nervous
It’s nerve-racking that the people that they said blooda’ purchased was brainwashed to feel the most worthless

Bad news
Phone call ’em
So called
In my zone, tryna write a song, tryna masturpeace

Bad news
Phone call ’em
So called
In my zone, tryna write a song, tryna masturpeace

Fresh out of filter tips
Guess I’ll just use this

Fresh out of filter tips

Fresh out of filter tips
Guess I’ll just use this

Bad news
Phone call ’em
So called
In my zone, tryna write a song, tryna masturpeace

Bad news
Phone call ’em
So called
In my zone, tryna write a song, tryna masturpeace

Years fly by with you
Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe I done found me a good thing
Bird’s eye high with you
Got him seeing new things, think I might’ve found the other shoestring
That was corny but you laughed how us do
When I’m with you, I can’t even hear things
It’s like I’m at the bottom of a rosy pool
I just wanna be here for a couple days
I just wanna «Hi babe»
I can’t even think straight
Now I’m late with replays
Every day’s another hour
Every hour’s just a minute
Every minute I don’t see you, I can see the phrase
I know it’s driving away
And girl, it’s driving me insane
Standing under waterfalls calling you
Always gotta struggle with the follow through
It’s my fault, it’s not on you
It’s my fault, it’s not on you
I’m just here to drop off
Cause I’m so anti and you so let’s try
And we just might’ve hit the drop off
But if you don’t mind, hope we this one time ‘fore we just fall and get our rocks off
Plus you know I don’t fuck with the locks off
Usually, I don’t fuck with the socks off
Never that, never trust, not the knock off
It’s too much, it’s too much, girl to hop off
Cause karma could give a fuck what you fin’ to or intend to, what your friends do
Reach for the end, so pass me the hot sauce

Fresh out of filter tips
Hoping this won’t hurt a bit
Tell the angels you deserve a lift