[Verse: Earl Sweatshirt]

99 problems all gone in that one joint

And that neck gold froze like he held it at gunpoint

I'm a bubble in the belly of the monster

With a duffel full of troubles, trunk rattle in the Mazda

Ragged with the contra, Phantom of the Opera

And I'm standing on the cop's truck, stacking for the long run

The bags packed, roadside with the thumb out

Toe-tagged, don't gag, spit your gum out

Nomadic, chrome-grabbing when it's danger

I'm a manger-born puppy, holding flight like a hangar do

Knife to the trachea, spit scabies and bet

The label don't like mе, but they pay me a grip

And you see how his day going by the statе of his wrists

Y'all niggas busy Play-Dohing, bet the baker came swinging like

What the fuck you saying? All that aiming and miss

Ayy, I'ma fuck the freckles off your bitch