[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 I 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