[Verse: Earl Sweatshirt]
Foot and hand on the gates
We was jumpin' 'em, fuck, I'm like quicksand in my ways
Was always stuck in 'em, stuck it in and an ambulance came
The first time, which ain't fast if you Los Angeles-raised (N***a)
My bitch say the spliff take the soul from me (Ayy)
And the clique tight-knit, it's like the 'lo rugby
Beat the fuckin' beat up like it stole from me (Yup)
You can talk to Clancy, you need a feature or quote from me (Bitch)
I'm off Delancey, I reek of reefer and show money
It's Early, running with n***as who cold runnin' shit
The wins like lotion: He get 'em, he gon' rub 'em in
Critics pretend they get it, and bitches just don't fuck with him
I spent the day drinkin' and missin' my grandmother, just
Grab a glass and pour some cold white wine in it
Or Colt .45 in it—you know how I get it
I'm toastin' myself, and a toast to all my n***as
And ain't no time limit, I'm toasted as hell
And I gotta jot it quick 'cause I can't focus so well

[Outro: Paloma Elsesser]
And now, a formal introduction