EL TORO COMBO MEAL - Earl Sweatshirt

Tryna, tryna

Tryna

Man, lost my dog in staircase

Took the highest spot on the podium

Ghost niggas prolly smokin' to the thought of knowin' us

They lost a part of growin' up

Smartest, learned I had to keep a wedge to get out of the rough

Use the clips, ain’t used to disrespect, 'cause we carried enough

I promise I buried the grudge, preparing and carrying grub

Larry Hoops, I was lost in the alley

In the air, but now I sunk

I spun to the loss of my grandmama, buried the dunk

Send 'bout a prayer a month, through the above

Niggas moody but they view at the funk

Ain’t shit to do, they play with food, they rhyme and Rubik’s for fun

But I do what I want, ayy

And I rue what it was later, allude it as such

Confusedly up with paper, I’m shootin' ones with the judges

The same as my brother been with a muzzle, that’s from the cradle

So we goin' to the grave with this shit

If we join the second line of ancestors and hand us a drum, loaded,

a second time

Somethin' scary 'bout airin' out the shit I compress

The fair game, the fair now, the causes

An arm, leg, an arm, leg, and a head

And all greater conquest that takes our partner to rest

My partner, my partner spawned with a nigga red

I’m all on they neck, 'till my car parks, pardon it, fresh

Smart with a few niggas, sparkin' that large percentages

Was all to the wind, the losses come as often as wins

And impossibly thick

Don’t got a job, I only ball off pick-six

I ball with fresh niggas, Lowry had shit lit, it’s Christmas

I only know six niggas been lyin', but we ain’t gon' mention

Who in the stu' and started sweating', told 'em, «It's the kitchen»

You know the rules, and we know how to shoot the loopholes

Who go boop-a-loop, and my kid, though got the kid

And you gon' juug a boogaloo

I been spittin' to rhyme the answer, not definitive, I just cramped it

I was gifted with words, oh damn, I took my lumps, my bruises, moved

What the fuck are you to do?

Every time a nigga didn’t spot me

I had to figure out my own thing

Now we at the precipice droppin'

Harry Potter with the Dub-D's

Magic hands, nigga, what cheese

Had a chance, then it crushed me

We gon' get it by all means

Rest in piece to my rocks, G

Raw fruit in the box, seeds

Let go, then I got wings

I’m seein' red, I’ma charge

You seein' red 'cause you salty

I keep the tears out my mind, reach

I put my fears in a box, like a prayer that you won’t read

Spirited Away, the whole thing

Tearin' away, I won’t leave

See you starin' into old beefs

Ticket booths, where they told me

Thickest thorns on the roses

Pistons roarin' like I’m Rasheed

Pistons roarin' like I’m Ben Wallace

Pistons roarin' like Chauncey

Billups, somethin', 'cause I been drivin'

Every time a nigga didn’t spot me

I had to figure out my own thing

Now we at the precipice droppin'