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 entrance before you get to the river
I had him before the heathen no reason for you to like me
Maybe this your wifey just wanting a clean divorce
The baby ain't really yours, that's really for babies teething
The chicken wings under-seasoned
Y'all really thought a bitch couldn't rap huh?
Maybe this your answer for that, the crack era
The Reagan administration that 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 screened

Mr. Money Man, Mr. Every Day He Got Me
Mr. Wifing Me Down, Mr. Me-Love, Mr. Miyagi
Miscellaneous, Mr. Molly Inside My Sake
Incredible, incredible emptiness in my body
Heaven's only four-feet tall, I set my ringer to it
Fucked your rapper homie, now his ass is making better music
My pussy teaching ninth-grade English
My pussy wrote a thesis on colonialism
In conversation with a marginal system in love with Jesus
And y'all still 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