Ass Backwards

[Chorus: Rav] Falling all the time (For the same) Awkward faults of mine (Every day) I apologize before I ever even fuck up This my lullaby (R-A-V!) I'm ass-backwards Everything I do is haphazard, ayy Ass-backwards The type to cry now and laugh after, ayy [Verse 1: Rav] These days, I don't look forward when I move Could turn a gift into a curse, a pretty bow into a noose I'm on the come-up but a downer, feeling lonesome and obtuse The irony is that I hate you, yet I hope that you improve No longer am I prone to letting loose So don't invite me to your parties or I'm spoilin' the mood I'm known to be the dude posted in the corner of the room Starin' at his fuckin' phone, never knowin' what to do Okay, you get it: I'm a bummer Type to sweat through coldest winters and then shiver during summers Say I do shit for the love, but feel embittered by my numbers My complainin' honesty could throw a cricket into slumber or a coma or a grave Wake up in the mornin', feeling mortified each day Hope has become foreign, gotta fortify my brain Sizin' what's in store through the stories I've obtained My mind keeps pouring when it rains [Chorus: Rav & Open Mike Eagle] Falling all the time (For the same) Awkward faults of mine (Every day) I apologize before I ever even fuck up This my lullaby I'm ass-backwards Everything I do is haphazard, ayy (One-two) Ass-backwards (Check, one-two, one-two) The type to cry now and laugh after, ayy [Verse 2: Open Mike Eagle] These are my last four tokens I wanted more but they foreboding The game's closed, but the door opened The back-porch poet delivered it short-notice Morse-code it The Lord knows it's fuck them and the horse they rode in on Of course they owned Enron I blow up with the force of an N-bomb It's my Freudian symptom I whistle like the Scorpions' hit song I’m hitting X with the button stick and This way coming is something wicked And 'tis the season for pumpkin gimmicks I need a basket for wastepaper A secret package with tastemakers Cabinet bracket space-saver I operate on an eighth-acre And I'm raising a frickin' eighth-grader I'm on Android like James Spader They praised luck in the race Labor for rectangular-shaped paper [Chorus: Rav] Fallin' all the time (For the same) Awkward faults of mine (Every day) I apologize before I ever even fuck up (R-A-V) It's my lullaby I'm ass-backwards Everything I do is haphazard, ayy Ass-backwards The type to cry now and laugh after, ayy