Earl Sweatshirt - Sunday lyrics

rate me

I know it don't seem difficult to hit you up

But you not passionate about half the shit that you into,

And I ain't havin' it!

And we both know it

That I don't mean to offend you,

I'm just focused today

And I don't know why it's difficult to admit that I miss you

And I don't know why we argue,

And I just hope that you listen

And if I hurt you I'm sorry,

The music makes me dismissive.

When I'm awake I'm just drifting

I'm not complaining,

it's just to say that I stay pretty busy, lately

And I could be misbehaving, I just hang with my niggas

I'm fucking famous if you forgot,

I'm faithful despite all my what's in my face and my pocket,

And this is painfully honest

And when I say it I vomit,

On cloudy days when I'm salty

I play the hate to the laundry

State to state for the profit, it ain't a stain on me, nigga!

My momma raised me a prophet, I play for dollar incentive

And where I'm walking, it's studded, and half-retarded I stumble

To where she park when she visit, I grab the bottle and chug it.

I see the car in the distance, I know the dark isn't coming

For the moment (for the moment)

If I could hold it (If I could hold it)

She, she seems that!

Hook:

All my dreams got dimmer when I stopped smoking pot

Nightmares got more vivid when I stopped smoking pot

And loving you is a little different; I don't like you a lot!

You see, it seems like, oh

I’m coming back I gotta handle business

Vanish to my sleeper seat, left you at terminal three

I’ll meet you down at baggage claim in a couple weeks, a fortnight

When you parade my homecoming, don’t cry!

You know I can’t live in any place I visit, to live and die in LA

I got my Fleetwood Mac, I could get high every day

But I’d be sleepy, OCD and paranoid,

So give me Bolly beach, no molly please,

Palm, no marijuana trees!

Yo hickeys on my aorta and tattoos you could only see

When I’m playing surfboarder, put whisky in that salt water!

I emptied every canteen

Just to wear that straight edge varsity you think’s cool

They thought me soft in High School,

Thank God I’m jagged!

Forgot you don’t like it rough,

I mean he called me a faggot

I was just calling his bluff

I mean how anal am I gonna be

When I’m aiming my gun

And why’s his mug all bloody?

That was a three on one?

Standing ovation at Staples I got my Grammy’s and gold

Polka dots on my brit, I’m not supposed to be stunting

It’s all melodic this song,

I catch this vibe in my sleep

But I’m just jet-lagged is all, and restless

Hook:

All my dreams got dimmer when I stopped smoking pot

Nightmares got more vivid when I stopped smoking pot

And loving you is a little different; I don't like you a lot!

You see, it seems like, oh

Outro:

I don’t know what we’re about

What good is West Coast weather

If you’re bi-polar, if I’mma need this sweater

I’d rather be where it’s cold

Where it snows

I see how it goes!

I put the flowers in bowls

I know they’re coming in droves

You’ll only miss when it goes

Yeah, I think that’s it!

When it goes, goes, goes!