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code of the street
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code of the street [Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt] Promise Heron I'll put my fist up after I get my [bad word] sucked Quick buck, maybe a gold chain With that [bad word] flow that s-s-so belittles men They tentatively tend to turn and go when I am finished Stone cold, hardly [bad word] with these niggas, [bad word] listen The description doesn't fit, if not a synonym of menace, then forget it In turn, these critics and interns Admitting the [bad word] spitted just burn like six furnaces Writ, it affixed learning them digits, and simultaneously Dispelling one-trick-pony myths, isn't he? One adolescent, [bad word] six [bad word] energy And crawling down fax like a rich [bad word] centipede Crack ceramic and slap a hand out of cash account Stamp and shouting, thrashing, these niggas done let the Kraken out Crack-a-lackin', like snap, crackle, poppin' your ammo off Hide your face, and throw your flannels off, Sweatshirt, [bad word] [Hook] '87 roof top, Bronson Whipping hoopties tryna boost raw chronic (Brutus in that booth, double scoop, hot vomit up) (Sub rocking, thud knocking niggas teeth loose) Bruh, I don't [bad word] with no cop (Rolling with that flow swamp) Catch me over stove top (Rapping to that coke rock) (Passionless in old Jive clothing With them doors wide open) (Dim the floor lights, focused) Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing, [bad word] [Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt] From a city that's recession-hit With stress niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake pennies in Desolate testaments trying to stay Jekyll-ish But most niggas Hyde, and Brenda just stay pregnant Breaking news: death's less important when the Lakers lose It's lead in that baby food, heads try to make it through Fish-netted legs for them eyes that she cater to Ride dirty as the [bad word] sky that you praying to So here I sit, eye in the pyramid God spit it like it's truth serum in that beer and then Disappear again, reappear bearded On top of a lear, steering it into the kids' ear again Provider of the backdrop music For the crack rock user and the mascot, Earl Rawer than the skinned knee cap on the blacktop Salivary glands, lighter fluid for the matchbox Striking, wait, wait, who the [bad word] you badder than? Boy, oh boy, I'm bad as burnt pollo off the grill and [bad word] Spitter of the Little Nick, nimble, rickrolling [bad word] niggas pick litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage [bad word] [Hook] [Verse 3: Vince Staples] Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, we know you niggas ain't about [bad word] Come around, we gun 'em down, bodies piled, Auschwitz Bulletproof outfits, weapons concealed I'm ready to kill, so test it, all my weapons is real Selling thizz, couldn't tell him what the recipe is Got 'em wishing that they never gave these weapons to kids, cheers Send chills up spines of fat [bad word] after Shows throwing out sandwiches, niggas get it how they Live and I live for money, other words, I'm getting money Little boy told me when it’s time to ride, they’ll send them for me Ain't nobody scaring me, niggas ain't prepared for heat Tools hit like pool sticks, the way I cue [bad word] If this was '88, I would have signed to Ruthless Nine-four, would've had them walking down Death Row First is when the best go, hate is what the rest do Voice inside my head told me, "Wet 'em if they test you" So it's Raging Waters season That yomper big as Larry Johnson, leave your momma seedless Everybody hard until it's only God they seeing Kittens soft but in they songs be trapping hard as Jeezy, I don't believe it But to each his own, I ain't tripping long as I can reach the chrome Heat your home like Southern California Gas, police pass Tell 'em "Free Smalls," off Palm with the heat drawn Strapped up long as the chief for police armed Raised where the beasts are, north of the Beach
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