Back to Top

Gas Video (MV)




Performed By: closegood
Language: English
Length: 3:12
Written by: Aleah Bradshaw, Taylor Bivens




closegood - Gas Lyrics
Official




Wake up sleepyheaded wax sticky finger stoner
Stomach still emaciated, faded off a foul memory
Make of me a man and maybe then I can be fem and free
And paint my f*cking nails pink so think pieces center me
I live in my head, my head is clouded with weed smoke
I get back in bed and tell myself I don't need folk
I don't need no company on facetime either, just a dirty baseline and a bag of sativa
Only paper in my pocket is for something I can smoke
Lint knotted coins cutting up my throat when I swallow
Rock bottom's got a hollowing joke: it's just a mirror of the top with a lot more pot smoke
Bet you I'll be better in a week hit me after the rent's due
Lungs weak coughing at the back of the venue
Broke and I tend to be alone often
Off and on temper, prone to pick a bone
Never home
All my homies modern renditions of tarot
Barely home in their bone marrow and narrowly not broke
We make it by the skin of our teeth and these niggas be making it by the skin of their kinfolk
Niggas dodging blessings like the heavens said think fast
Patience getting thinner quick like I'm on slim fast
I will make a dinner of your ego if we go any further
Imma needa roll a black with some green like Shego
These days the blunt be my only amigo
Good gas got the voice crack low like Tito
Talk to me sideways get a stitch like lilo
Feeling cunt, cum drunk on my stevo shit
Don't start no shit won't be no shit
Get shitfaced to face all my emotions
Nigga
I'm back on my bull and packing a bowl
I be on my young black negro shit ugh
I am a bitch and a bad one at that
Your nigga spoil me and call me his brat
He got my name in a tat, but your bitch got my name on her cat
And I got her cat on my tongue yeah
I got the gas in my lungs yeah
I eat her like she a luncheon
I can not pass up a function
Dance!
I live in my head, my head is clouded with weed smoke
I get back in bed and tell myself I don't need folk
Bet you I'll be better in a week hit me after the rent's due
Lungs weak coughing at the back of the venue
Broke and I tend to be alone often
Off and on temper, prone to pick a bone
Never home
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




Wake up sleepyheaded wax sticky finger stoner
Stomach still emaciated, faded off a foul memory
Make of me a man and maybe then I can be fem and free
And paint my f*cking nails pink so think pieces center me
I live in my head, my head is clouded with weed smoke
I get back in bed and tell myself I don't need folk
I don't need no company on facetime either, just a dirty baseline and a bag of sativa
Only paper in my pocket is for something I can smoke
Lint knotted coins cutting up my throat when I swallow
Rock bottom's got a hollowing joke: it's just a mirror of the top with a lot more pot smoke
Bet you I'll be better in a week hit me after the rent's due
Lungs weak coughing at the back of the venue
Broke and I tend to be alone often
Off and on temper, prone to pick a bone
Never home
All my homies modern renditions of tarot
Barely home in their bone marrow and narrowly not broke
We make it by the skin of our teeth and these niggas be making it by the skin of their kinfolk
Niggas dodging blessings like the heavens said think fast
Patience getting thinner quick like I'm on slim fast
I will make a dinner of your ego if we go any further
Imma needa roll a black with some green like Shego
These days the blunt be my only amigo
Good gas got the voice crack low like Tito
Talk to me sideways get a stitch like lilo
Feeling cunt, cum drunk on my stevo shit
Don't start no shit won't be no shit
Get shitfaced to face all my emotions
Nigga
I'm back on my bull and packing a bowl
I be on my young black negro shit ugh
I am a bitch and a bad one at that
Your nigga spoil me and call me his brat
He got my name in a tat, but your bitch got my name on her cat
And I got her cat on my tongue yeah
I got the gas in my lungs yeah
I eat her like she a luncheon
I can not pass up a function
Dance!
I live in my head, my head is clouded with weed smoke
I get back in bed and tell myself I don't need folk
Bet you I'll be better in a week hit me after the rent's due
Lungs weak coughing at the back of the venue
Broke and I tend to be alone often
Off and on temper, prone to pick a bone
Never home
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Aleah Bradshaw, Taylor Bivens
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Back to: closegood

Tags:
No tags yet