'Cause I'd spend half this morning Thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in I should know 'Cause I'd spend all the whole day Listening to your message I’m keeping And never deleting In the morning when you wake up I like to believe you are thinking of me

No you don't even like You're so gay and you don't even like boys No you don't even like boys I hope you hang yourself with your H&M scarf While jacking off listening to Mozart You bitch and moan about LA Wishing you were in the rain reading Hemingway

To whom it may concern and for those who are listening Were fighting hard but its not with our fist n' Recruiting soldiers livicated to this mission To disect this bushwick system To disect this bushwick system Trying to ride that thin line that divide

It was just another night with the sunset and The moon rise not so far behind To give us just enough light To lay down underneath the stars listening to The light was leaving and the west it was blue The children's laughter saying they're skipping just

My body's callin' for you I hear you callin' me I'm listening baby I hear you callin', "Here I come baby" To save you, oh oh Baby no more stallin' These hands have been longing to touch you baby And now that you've come around, to seein' it my way You

That's why God made Mexico And that's why God made Mexico A place where we can lay low Margie said Roy you ain't listening to me And I got a whole lot more to say Roy just crossed the floor and picked up his car keys She ain't seen nor heard from him to

When we were young When we were young we belonged to someone and that was easy Well you can’t be found if you’re not all alone You fell asleep listening to me linger on About how it used to be In the backseat My oldest friend, You know me then, You know

I can make you, (I can make you believe in anything) Believe in anything My neighbors keep gettin' murdered so we sleep with the alarm on Bedroom filled with Nike SBs and Comme de Garcons Starin' at the ceiling listening to soul father Tryna' make the

The big man arrives Disco dancers greet him Plainclothes cops greet him Small town, big man, fresh lipstick glistening Sophomore jive From victims of typewriters The band sounds like typewriters The big man he's not listening His eyes hold Edith

Xans gon' take you Xans gon' fake you (yeah) Xans don't make you (you) And Xans gon' betray you (what? Yeah) And if I die don't miss me (ayy) I wish that bitch just kiss me (ayy) (You are now listening to a Bobby Johnson beat) Ooh, I pop a Perc' when I'm