Wool

[Intro: Vince Staples]

Yeah, yeah, yeah

[Verse 1: Vince Staples]

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' work (Psych!)

Nigga, I don’t do that

Niggas get bloop-blapped and blown away

Wessons making Mexicans wetbacks, like, "Órale!"

Okay, I’m onto 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 mama to match a nigga model whip

Ramona Park made me from scratch

A lot of lotto picks lost inside this game we call rap

I be the underdog

Bullet hit his forehead, it exit out his underarm

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

Baby-mama killer, you offended, and I fuck her raw

Stretchy doing federal time for busting at the law

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

Shawty, I be swimming 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

[Break: Vince Staples]

Ugh, hold on, hold on, let me hear me that

Ugh, hold on, hold on, ugh

Ugh, hold on, hold on, ugh

[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]

It's Golf on that— Bitch, it's Golf on that ball cap

I guzzle the tallboy, Jehovah ain’t call back

And y’all still debating over Earl music

Troops got the group nationwide moving merch units crazy (Nigga)

Peanut butter to paisley

Walking down the street in the different-color McGradys

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 mama, 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

Pitch your body in the water like a Lipton teabag

And then switch to a different fucking whip to let them piggies speed past him

It's the rats, tryna 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

Fifties in my pocket falling out like fucking baby teeth

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

Fingertips to tapers now, salute us when you face us

Give a fuck 'bout the moves all these loser niggas making now