20 Wave Caps lyrics

[Verse 1: Domo Genesis]
Look for me
Lost in a whirlwind, 2012 quality
High up until the world ends, doing eighty-five in my ride
And these n*ggas hiding, know I'm striding like a giant
I ain't lying when I'm rhyming, rule these n*ggas like a tyrant
Damn, Doms, it don't even seem like you trying
Know these n*ggas crucify 'em, couldn't crack him, I'm a diamond
I know that n*ggas is finding my progression so uncommon
The pressure I'm still applying till I hear the angels crying
Sad day in Hell for those who doubted, hope your head explode
Cry about it, but don't deny that Doms got the realest flows
My eyes is feeling low, pulling on the killer 'dro
Chilling with a vixen, thinking "This is what I did it for"
Still banging, Wolf Ganging as if you n*ggas didn't know
Still trifling, Loiter Litter Life and triple sixing, ho

[Break: Earl Sweatshirt]
Doms, Doms
Doms

[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
While they ripping through the packaging to grab the sh*t
I'm shaded with the few whom I usually blow cabbage with
New patterns patty-caking with mannequins
'Cause I don't like my f*cking homies dip, bruh, they all
Jaw-slacking, all 'em awe struck
And I ain't got sh*t but a pretty b*tch and cigar tucks
Riding in the city and knocking out in the Starbucks
I swear these n*ggas is f*cking phony, smoking spliffs
And that's, prior to arriving to the studio
Eyes glued to a gluteus maximus, attractive lady
Where you headed with that sh*t?
And can a real n*gga get a look at it?
Crook, panic-shook, ain't ya?
Blunt fatter than some butch ankles
Cheffing, fit the cook apron, ante up for good payment
Run until my foot achy, running till my foot aching
Full-grown terror type, Ferragamo do-rag
With my n*gga Travy out in Maui, running two-mans
Smoking till I'm loopy as a motherf*cking toucan
Twenty minutes, burn a f*cking quarter back to two grams
But I'ma dip, I know you must have had it with my rude ass