Earl Sweatshirt – Hoarse lyrics

[Verse 1]
Gorgeous chrome-plated horse whip
Home-making paintings for poor-quality porn flicks
Court adjourned and the verdict's still saucy
Sack swinging like Dub-D40 on a door hinge
Good lord, walk light like the floor slick
Look bored, hoard all mics in a force grip
Pro-abortion endorsing his own importance
Or leaving opponents floating with paper and dirty porcelain
Pinnacle of titillating crisp spit
Fist clinched emulating '68 Olympics
Rock it from the cradle 'til he middle aged and limp-sticked
Coughing from the stable probably indicating spliff's lit
Dismissed, feel it in that saturated cranium
Heavy as insurance off a spanking new laser gun
Crazy heart, hazy lung, making art, raking funds
Crowd going dumb like Palin's son

[Hook: Frank Ocean]
And it always follows Autumn
No home for the weak
No insurance for your pride
Jive, jive
And it always follows Autumn

[Verse 2]
I sit in thought 'til the flow is right
Then throw some D on all available open mics
Smoke it right proposing these niggas over
Wipe more because I normally toilet bowl with a broken pipe
Shit, the former soloist who flow was sick
The token sober kid stressed so the role was switched
Now Four Lokos down the hole and a loaded spliff
Look who’s as useless as a broken wrist when tryna open shit
Nigga cold is what you need to keep the poultry in
Resulting in me rolling slick as bottom of the bowling kicks
Early man, you posers know me as the troll throwing moldy
Donut holes at your grody ho from his cronies' whip
Eating like the kids when you take ‘em off Ritalin
Throwing temper tantrums at the window of your whip again
Sweeping up the glass to use it as a garnish over
Tracks damaged like the leg he limping to the barn with
Chickenshits
Temper 'bout as thick as tips of pencils is, missiles to the picket fence
Who spit as good fingerlickin’ bitch
Bet it's thirty-six fish netted like the hook was inefficient

[Hook]