TAPE BROCKHAMPTON

[Verse 1: Kevin Abstract]
I can barely rap, I can barely dance
I can barely laugh, I can barely hang
I need a male stripper, do a belly dance
For me and my boyfriend, that's entertainment
And I'm drunk as fuck, my nigga sucks up
I need a reason to get my bucks up
I need a reason to care about society
They need a good enough reason just to hire me
But honestly, you see, my mom can't walk
And her lungs don't work like they used to
I feel like it's my fault 'cause of music
I be saying shit that's just fucking rude and untrue, and
But truthfully, your words had damage, and it's cruel to me
But even more cruel to be dissing you
In front of niggas that pay to hear me
Sometimes I be wondering, why I been tripping off it
I should probably spend my time writing rhymes in the dentist's office
That's killing two birds in one stone
When I was younger, way before I was grown
I wanted a deal with Death Row or Rhymesayers
I'm saving my time for mics later
I might save it, depending on the shit that y'all write later
I hate writers, I hate tweets, I hate journalists
They hate truth, they hate peace; they want my niggas to burn with us