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jakob & mr. white - new years resolution lyrics
you hear the words that i say?
milking out whats g-y
make sure the b-tch is white
then i make her my fiancé
(danny brown voice)
i got that underground flow
call me danny brown
never was insane
and your posse still clown
in apple jacks and nicos
syrup sippin negro
plate of chicken waffles
still speaking that supreme flo
rest in piece i am deceased
skin is softer than a fleece
crack open ma jaw
sit and ride and then release
blinded by my obstacles
yet still looking through a monical
rich and highly wasted
while my house is sent for rental
blood all over paris
blow in all my hands
tweaking like a rapper
yet i never had a chance
i ain’t even mad at y’all
believe it when i’m tryin
poppin lots of adderal
making sure i’m dying
now my heart is on a timer
mind of jeffrey dammer
f-ckin lots of hoes and sl-ts
still they calling me a liar (augh)
(chorus)
new years resolution
with a sense of clarity
start at zero, currency
open doors, curtesy
oh, you never heard of me?
i’m living for the moment
and the timing is perfect
and like my two wrists
they’re a bl–dy -ss mess
switching like a switchblade
turning into turn lanes
down my shot of scotch
while your ex be giving me brain
and a pinky
sprayed it like i’m banksy
sh-t got my head spinning
so i gave it all to charity
[verse 2: mr. white]
two words: mr. white
f-ck that, jack white
f-ck that, act right, everybody lose
yourself in what we’re doing, yeah yeah the students
in tune with what the tutor pursuing spewing the music
but we don’t do it like they did, sh-t it’s all newish
at least a new take f-ck it do it just to do it
they do it for the new kicks, i do it for the doob hits
i call em on their new sh-t now all obeyers is nudists
the crudest, showing stoned, you good doers is missing this
‘b-tch flow’ that i did before now i’m slapping myself right out of it
white, out of the picture, ‘mr. kiss her’ your life is ending
and i’m sending all my love through a bottle that’s lit with a string
it’s a beautiful thing, i got the silliest things
i’m making several reservations, still resolving nothing
said to “talk right” “dress nice” “handshake” “stand tall”
f-ck y’all, breaking down this f-cking rap stall
i’m a loser, chooser of brews over it all
money on my repertoire hope that b-tch’ll call
slap synths in the whistler get tickled by the applause
too bad, white’ll be dead before the curtain even falls
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