Earl Sweatshirt + The Alchemist – The Caliphate Lyrics

The Caliphate Lyrics by Earl Sweatshirt + The Alchemist Ft. Vince Staples

He gave me no release, I hope for peace, be postal now
Over East, corroded sheet metal, my [?] just found
He let it go, brodie left the heat on the coldest ground
To wrap around the wound unwound
I poured the bruise blood into the sound (Let some of the bruise blood come out)
Stole the crown, grew out of poster child
Served a few once I stir the stew on the stove around

If you hit the county you better hold it down
Grab the bounty, left him on down, he screamin’ on the ground
Cup runnin’ over, son of Ramona, her poster child
The coast is clear, they wanna act La Cosa Nostra now
When we was there, they toned it down, how I’m supposed to smile?
When cheese attract the rats, police attachin’ facts
They ain’t PC, they just trustees, I had to laugh at that
We never taught, just be boy pose, parolin’ back to back
Soon as I clap, they scat, I been with all that jazz
I throw the pill like Uncle Phil, revolver hold McNabbs
Just tryna hold me back

Holyfield when I go to him
Talk, ayy, bro, you, know I’m not involved
We eagles on attack, big dawg
Talons full of snacks, I couldn’t kiss away my last
Gave all I had, I gave the mistletoe a tag
I know it’s clip or crash, my bro gon’ rinse his filthy hands
Show ’em what you got, I can’t promise he won’t appeal for that
Slow your roll, I promise you not built for that
Little man, I’m eatin’, I don’t fast, shady business in the black
Please observe the gone and dead
Tell ’em save a spot for them, the kid lost his color then
Death be scraped up off all the chips, and-
A trail of frowning faces, shaky powdered wigs
Tell ’em blame it on my wrist, it’s steady as a scalpel
Tell her, I’ma face a thousand spliffs, the test of faith, I pass the quiz
With flyin’ colors, then rub the vase, I had a wish
Magic man, find the funds to allocate and I’ll appear
Takin’ numbers, death paradin’ ’round, it’s grim, but he ain’t take me under
Trauma from the thickest niggas made it out of jams
In the mix, stay at attention, we global, gallivantin’ gloatin’
Back to back with croski, fuck ’em and their parents
And the parasites they hostin

You know you know me, Glock 32
I shoot like both the Kobes, pop it when I’m lonely
At the seam, start when twenty’s on her back like Ginóbili
You fuckin’ on the homies, okay

Actually, what is the message you want to give to transmit to the public, to our listeners
Well, I always feel that even though one is an artist
That we are first human beings and we live in the same world as any other person
So that we as artists should never close our eyes to what is happening to us
And the songs that I sing are just about my everyday life
And, uh, the things I say are those things that have affected my life

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