Lyrics 20 Wave Caps - Earl Sweatshirt
Look
for
me
Lost
in
a
whirlwind,
2012
quality
High
up
until
the
world
end,
doing
eighty-five
in
my
ride
And
these
niggas
hiding,
know
I'm
striding
like
a
giant
I
ain't
lying
when
I'm
rhyming,
rule
these
niggas
like
a
tyrant
Damn,
Doms,
it
don't
even
seem
like
you
trying
Know
these
niggas
crucify
'em,
couldn't
crack
him
I'm
a
diamond
I
know
that
niggas
is
finding
my
progression
so
uncommon
The
pressure
I'm
still
applying
until
I
hear
the
angels
crying
Sad
day
in
Hell
for
those
who
doubted,
hope
your
head
explode
Cry
about
it,
but
don't
deny
that
Doms
got
the
realest
flows
My
eyes
is
feeling
low,
pulling
on
the
killer
'dro
Chilling
with
a
vixen,
thinking
"This
is
what
I
did
it
for"
Still
banging,
Wolf
Ganging
as
if
you
niggas
didn't
know
Still
trife
and
Loiter
Litter
Life
and
triple
sixing,
ho
Doms,
while
they
ripping
through
the
packaging
to
grab
the
shit
I'm
shaded
with
the
few
whom
I
usually
blow
cabbage
with
New
patterns
patty-caking
with
mannequins
Cause
I
don't
like
my
fucking
homies
dip,
bruh,
they
all
Jaw-slacking,
all
'em
awe
struck
And
I
ain't
got
shit
but
a
pretty
bitch
and
cigar
tucks
Riding
in
the
city
and
knocking
out
in
the
Starbucks
I
swear
these
niggas
is
fucking
phony,
smoking
spliffs
and
that's
Prior
to
arriving
to
the
studio
Eyes
glued
to
a
gluteus
maximus,
attractive
lady
Where
you
headed
with
that
shit?
And
can
a
real
nigga
get
a
look
at
it?
Crook,
panic-shook
Ain't
ya?
Blunt
fatter
than
some
butch
ankles
Cheffing,
fit
the
cook
apron,
ante
up
for
good
payment
Run
until
my
foot
achy,
running
'till
my
foot
aching
Full-grown
terror
type,
Ferragamo
do-rag
With
my
nigga
Travy
out
in
Maui,
running
two-mans
Smoking
'till
I'm
loopy
as
a
motherfucking
toucan
20
minutes,
burn
a
fucking
quarter
back
to
two
grams
But
I'mma
dip,
I
know
you
must
have
had
it
with
my
rude
ass
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