Wool Lyrics - I Don't Like Shit, I Don't Go Outside - Earl Sweatshirt

Yeah yeah yeah 

Soon as I catch the vibe tell 'em to fetch the hearse 

Shorty I'm pressin' lines lifting the Lauren shirt 

Tell her to bless the girth if she with it 

I'm in that kitchen, wrist water whippin' 

(psych) Work nigga, I don't do that 

Niggas get bloop-blapped and blown away 

Wessons making Mexicans wetbacks like órale 

Okay, I'm on to something 

Momma should've told you it'd be days like this 

It's just a tale from the crip 

I'm on my séance shit, I'm tryna' make a million dollars 

Keep it hood while crossing over on some A.I. shit 

I need a foreign baby momma to match a nigga model whip 

Ramona Park made me from scratch 

A lot of lotto picks lost inside this game called rap 

I be the underdog 

Bullet hit his forehead, it exit out his under arm 

Ain't nobody bigger than my hood, my nigga, fuck a boss 

Baby momma killer, you offended and I fuck her raw 

Stretchy doin' federal time for bustin' at the law 

And he gonna be a neighbor of mine, you play me for a pawn 

Shorty I be swimmin' with sharks, your posse full of prawns 

Pistols rip his body apart, now he afraid of dark alleyways 

Niggas better listen when the pastor say 

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It's Golf on that-- bitch, it's Golf on that ball cap 

I guzzle the tall boy, Jehovah ain't call back 

And ya'll still debating over Earl music 

Troops got the group nationwide moving merch units crazy 

Peanut butter to paisley, walking down the street 

In the different color McGrady's, that first grader was me 

Now my fist full of spliffs and the old banker receipts 

Bitches grip the stick and jerky like cold shanks of the beef, dry 

I'm taking purses like they chances in the evening 

Pick your pants up, boy, you dancing with a demon 

On my momma I been limiting my features, filling swishers up with reefer 

Bitch, it's difficult to beat him like a soft dick 

Golf clique deep and we don't hit the streets passive 

That nigga Sweaty got the gas and Shreddy k brought the matches 

Put your body down in water like a Lipton tea bag and then 

Switch to different fucking whip to let them piggies speed past 'em 

It's the rats, try and get the cheese What it do? Rap like I'm mincing meat 

Call me Lou, if I'm on the track, these niggas skip to me 

Niggas want to fade me, bitches feel some type of way for me 

50's in my pocket falling out like fucking baby teeth 

Vince be with the rocket, he gone pop it when it's danger round 

Fingertips to tapers, now, salute us when you face us 

Give a fuck about the moves all these loser niggas making now 

Photos