Astro

[Verse 1: Hodgy] I said, niggas be takin' life too serious I swear my music take lives—uh—period MellowHype, things independent, Freedmind pyramids Breaking walls down, never a Black Hawk Down, oh They put a label on me, but I see they’re all clowns That’s why I talk English and think fast Feel my words through the ink's last letter Which'll never turn his back, back catcher I grab extra magazines I'm in to remind me of the places I’ve been Returning to visit again, me and my fuckin’ friends Before I hit the stage I clench my microphone until my fist hurt Before I eat sushi, I’d rather get to know the fish first For all the cats behind my time that rhyme, that shit's worth— Everything in my mental state now I’m secure, mental ways Dental plates in my jaw for spitting raw just because I like to floss my talent (Uh-uh-uh-uh) yeah [Chorus: Frank Ocean] Think I'ma wear the yellow tux at the Grammys And rock out with my cock out Like, "Who this kid think he is?" It’s just something I seen Prince do, it's true But no matter what, I'm showing up Who gives a flying floating fuck what people say or think? 'Cause end of the day, start of the day, they all said we wouldn’t get here anyway You blink, and Wolf Gang’s in this bitch [Verse 2: Hodgy] When I was a kid I wanted to be just like you (When I grew up, when I, when I, grew up) Write my own rhymes, recite 'em a couple times Hoping one day it blew up so me and my niggas could shine I got three quarters and about ten dimes You can split them tens up, 'cause both these quarters are mines, nigga Let’s fuckin' celebrate, Wolf Gang confederate We made it, we made it, we made it, and you hatin' 'Cause we made it and we made it, and that is not an understatement (Oh) I put that on the people that I stay with, live day-to-day with Tour bus is the slave ship, niggas worked the grave shift Record, clean up, and play disc We must be misbehaving, but the fans love it; they get the subject Niggas claim to be rappers but don’t fulfill the substance Fuckin' rubbish, I'll dust quick, nothing to fuck with I've got my hands on my balls, like my nuts itch [Chorus: Frank Ocean] Think I'ma wear the yellow tux at the Grammys And rock out with my cock out (Ayy) Like, "Who this kid think he is?" It’s just something I seen Prince do, it's true But no matter what, I'm showing up— Who gives a flying, floating fuck what people say or think? 'Cause end of the day, start of the day, they all said we wouldn’t get here anyway You blink, and Wolf Gang’s in this bitch [Interlude: Frank Ocean] I remember, I first played Trick' some OF shit (Ooh-ooh-ooh) And he fronted on it, like, "Nah, that shit will never work" (Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh) Hahaha Like, "Word?" [Refrain: Frank Ocean] Family (Haha) These two wrists of mine I had to make them gold You gotta let me shine (Right, right) If you’re a friend of mine Ask any friend of mine I’ll never block your glow, won’t curb your high We be in a place they never been Hella bands for the hell of it In Paris, Paris, Paris White wings on desert sand Flyin' over the Taliban, probably We be in a place they never been Hella bands for the hell of it In Paris, Paris, Paris White wings on desert sand Flyin' over the Taliban, probably