hoes don't get cold

"911, what's your emergency?" "I have knife hands." "Excuse me?" "I looked down, and my hands were knives." "Your hands are knives?" "Yeah." "Can you put the knives down?" "No, they're my hands." "Alright, where are you?" "I don't want knife hands! I can't pet my cat; I can't high-five anything!" "It's okay, sir. Let's work this out." "What am I gonna do? Be a chef? Just chop, chop, chop my whole life, nothing but chopping. Duh, chop that." I wake up sick Don't give a f*ck I hit the bong Then take my drugs I brush my teeth I make my lunch I pack my bag Then smoke a blunt I know a girl Who doesn't care Her curvy waist Her curly hair She said, "23 is just too young for me I just like your vibe and your company." But the old me Would feel so unhappy Because of what you did to me I feel so lonely If you know, you know Can't trust these hoes They try to play you like a trombone Since when did you do so much blow? You love the winter 'cause hoes don't get cold She probably doesn't like me She probably doesn't care She probably wouldn't f*ck me Much to my despair "How did you call 911?" "I called on my phone." "Right, and how did you dial the number?" "With my fingers." "Okay, where are your fingers?" "On my hands." "Oh good, they're back. Oh thank you, oh my god, look at them, I love these hands." I'm the king of the court and the eye of the storm But you get in my way with no remorse You can hide in the cracks in between the floors But I won't look back when I slam this door Slither through grass Slit her with glass Slytherin class Little Miss Trash I'm undeniably annihilating All these pupils dilating Always sitting quiet waiting Hitting little whining babies Make me wanna be fucking left alone Make me never wanna fucking check my phone Make me never wanna fucking come back home There's some things I wish I'd never known Why was I born? Why did you sin? Why'd you gotta go and f*ck up your kin? How'd you ever even fall in love with him And have your kids And will to live Picture this You're in a garden You're with Adam He says let's sin He sees the tree He eats the fruit And now he's dead and so are you If you know, you know Can't trust these hoes They try to play you like a trombone Since when did you do so much blow? You love the winter 'cause hoes don't get cold "What's your name, is it Sharon?" "No." "Oh Sharon, you're an angel." "I am not." "Mm, that's what an angel would say." "Thank you Sharon." "You're welcome." "This acid is really messing with me." "Oh boy, now my feet are knives."