Song 31

All my everything is for you All my terrible sense of humor and critical interviews All my pearly gated redemption and causal afternoons All this money you know I'm making like racing against the moon, but I sell pain for profit And I feel prophet watching Everything is for everything rhyming with causality, Ain't no labels that's backing me but my tickets be selling out And I'm steady raising my feetus, another hit from the fee This another hit from the phone 110 degrees in the desert heat With a bubble coat, turtleneck underneath Rolling up on the beach Smoking a holy weed Laughing baking my homie Tee hoping joking is all we need When I sell pain for profit Now I binge watch Atlanta No more TV representation from a Kelsy Grammer Let's toast to niggas getting checks who work behind the camera Somebody raise they man up Truth be told I wear my heart on my sleeve Watch you sit it on the shelf Now my body got cold I swear we'll never leave Had to do it for myself To find my praise Go, get your weapon Real recognize real feeling like real proof Real buddy-buddy after the trip to the Cancun Million dollar baby bet you can get to the hands too Got a pack of wolves ready to damage a full moon The only bitch actually rapping, it look like me now Or meow Kitty just reimagined a freestyle Dm flooded niggas still waiting for me to reach out We shadow boxing government hoping they put the leash down I sell pain for profit not propaganda I know cancers origins link to Santa I know Santa's origins link to money Mass production of cattle, a slaughtering for the yummy These niggas is clever, the prison no better The ghost of the living We ain't talk about Reggie on Christmas we almost forget him What's a casket to a holding cell if a nigga ain't in it Only reason why I'm steady faded and still independent Truth be told I wear my heart on my sleeve Watch you sit it on the shelf Now my body got cold I swear we'll never leave Had to do it for myself To find my praise Go, get your weapon