P.SEAN - hoes don't get cold

"911, what's your emergency?"
"I have knife hands."
"Excuse me?"
"I looked down, and my hands were knives."
"Your hands are knives?"
"Yeah."
"Can you put the knives down?"
"No, they're my hands."
"Alright, where are you?"
"I don't want knife hands! I can't pet my cat; I can't high-five anything!"
"It's okay, sir. Let's work this out."
"What am I gonna do? Be a chef? Just chop, chop, chop my whole life, nothing but chopping. Duh, chop that."
I wake up sick
Don't give a fuck
I hit the bong
Then take my drugs
I brush my teeth
I make my lunch
I pack my bag
Then smoke a blunt
I know a girl
Who doesn't care
Her curvy waist
Her curly hair
She said, "23 is just too young for me
I just like your vibe and your company."
But the old me
Would feel so unhappy
Because of what you did to me
I feel so lonely
If you know, you know
Can't trust these hoes
They try to play you like a trombone
Since when did you do so much blow?
You love the winter 'cause hoes don't get cold
She probably doesn't like me
She probably doesn't care
She probably wouldn't fuck me
Much to my despair
"How did you call 911?"
"I called on my phone."
"Right, and how did you dial the number?"
"With my fingers."
"Okay, where are your fingers?"
"On my hands."
"Oh good, they're back. Oh thank you, oh my god, look at them, I love these hands."
I'm the king of the court and the eye of the storm
But you get in my way with no remorse
You can hide in the cracks in between the floors
But I won't look back when I slam this door
Slither through grass
Slit her with glass
Slytherin class
Little Miss Trash
I'm undeniably annihilating
All these pupils dilating
Always sitting quiet waiting
Hitting little whining babies
Make me wanna be fucking left alone
Make me never wanna fucking check my phone
Make me never wanna fucking come back home
There's some things I wish I'd never known
Why was I born?
Why did you sin?
Why'd you gotta go and fuck up your kin?
How'd you ever even fall in love with him
And have your kids
And will to live
Picture this
You're in a garden
You're with Adam
He says let's sin
He sees the tree
He eats the fruit
And now he's dead and so are you
If you know, you know
Can't trust these hoes
They try to play you like a trombone
Since when did you do so much blow?
You love the winter 'cause hoes don't get cold
"What's your name, is it Sharon?"
"No."
"Oh Sharon, you're an angel."
"I am not."
"Mm, that's what an angel would say."
"Thank you Sharon."
"You're welcome."
"This acid is really messing with me."
"Oh boy, now my feet are knives."

Written by:
Patrick Shafer

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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