From the EP "Songs To Yeet At The Sun" in stores now
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Clean money waxing legitimate feels like a non-alternative. Quiet as its kept in the whip, we lit. Niggas know what we got hit. To invest on the constant while we tryna live is a prick in our hip. My niggas walk w a limp. You can see the blood in our footprints. You can see the mud in our fingertips and our fingerprints off dirt niggas did. Waiting on the other shoe to drop and it maybe wont fit. Whether it feel comfortable or not niggas gon wear it. Everybody running for a carrot. Caldwell copped Ks w the sheriffs. So any way weget it got merit. Our era is a marketplace of contained demolitions, pleasant distractions under commercial supervision, and affordable suicidal coping mechanisms. I catch myself picking at them even when I'm bored, awash in the promise that I'll be destroyed. Now picture me overseas medicated, but still, the settlement for all of we've survived sabotaged by guilt. So a nigga stress eats. When they brought me to the car, I swear to god I didn't tell. On my life I didn't tell. I'll put myself before my nigga only when the punishment come. As far as law concerned I be the only one.

#SoulGlo #SongsToYeetAtTheSun #SecretVoice

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