Chum lyrics

Something sinister to it, pendulum swinging slow

A degenerate moving through the city with criminals, stealth

Welcome to enemy turf, harder than immigrants work

"Golf" is stitched into my shirt

Get up off the pavement, brush the dirt up off my psyche

Psyche, psyche

"Can I get that, oh... let me get that beat in my headphones, louder."

It's probably been twelve years since my father left, left me fatherless

And I just used to say I hate him in dishonest jest

When honestly I miss this nigga, like when I was six

And every time I got the chance to say it I would swallow it

Sixteen, I'm hollow, intolerant, skip shots

I storm that whole bottle, I'll show you a role model

I'm drunk, pissy, pissing on somebody front lawn

Trying to figure out how and when the fuck I missed moderate

Momma often was offering peace offerings

Think, wheeze cough, scoffing and he's off again

Searching for a big brother, Tyler was that

And plus he liked how I rap, the blunted mice in the trap

Too black for the white kids, and too white for the blacks

From honor roll to cracking locks up off them bicycle racks

I'm indecisive, I'm scatterbrained, and I'm frightened, it's evident

In them eyes, where he hiding all them icicles at?

Something sinister to it, pendulum swinging slow

A degenerate moving through the city with criminals, stealth

Welcome to enemy turf, harder than immigrants work

"Golf" is stitched into my shirt

Get up off the pavement, brush the dirt up off my psyche

Psyche, psyche

"Can I get that, oh... let me get that beat in my headphones, louder."

Uh... time lapse, bars rotten, heart's bottomless pit

Was mobbin' deep as '96 Havoc and Prodigy did

We were the pottymouth posse crash the party and dip

With all belongings then toss em out to the audience

Nothing was fucking awesome, trying to make it from the bottom of Syd's

Feeling as hard as Vince Carter's knee cartilage is

Supreme garment and weed gardeners garnishing spliffs

With Keef particles and entering apartments with 'zine article

Tolerance for boundaries, I know you happy now

Craven and these Complex fuck niggas done track me down

Just to be the guys that did it, like, "I like attention"

Not the type where niggas trying to get a raise at my expense

Supposed to be grateful, right? Like, "Thanks so much, you made my life

Harder, and the ties between my mom and I are strained and tightened

Even more than they were before all of this shit"

Been back a week and I already feel like calling it quits

Something sinister to it, pendulum swinging slow

A degenerate moving through the city with criminals, stealth

Welcome to enemy turf, harder than immigrants work

"Golf" is stitched into my shirt

Get up off the pavement, brush the dirt up off my psyche

Psyche, psyche

"Can I get that, oh... let me get that beat in my headphones, louder."

• Artist:Earl Sweatshirt
• Album:Doris