Artist: NoName
Track: Self

Lyrics
Maybe this the album you listen to in your car when you driving home late at night
Really questioning every god, religion, Kanye, bitches
Maybe this is the interest before you get to the river
I had him before the heathen no reason for you to like me
Maybe this your life he just wanted a clean divorce
The baby ain't really yours
That's really for baby's teething, the chicken wings underseasoned
Y'all really thought a bitch couldn't rap huh?
Maybe this your answer for that, a crack addict in the Reagen administration
And niggas are still scared of, nah actually this is for me
This one for TT at the lake serving the mac and the cheese
This one a small apology for all the calls that I screamed

Mister money man, mister every day he got me, mister weather me down
Mister me love, mister Miyagi, miscellaneous, mister molly inside my socky
Incredible, incredible, emptiness in my body
Heaven's only four-feet tall, I set my ringer to it
Fucked the rapper homie now his ass is making better music
My pussy teaches ninth-grade English
My pussy wrote a thesis on colonialism
In conversation with a marginal system in love with Jesus
Y'all really thought a bitch couldn't rap huh?
Maybe this your answer for that?
Good pussy, I know niggas only talk about money and good pussy