Música,
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Sunday

Frank Ocean

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Sunday

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I know it don't seem difficult to hit you upBut you not passionateAbout half the shit that you intoAnd I ain't havin' itAnd we both knowThat I don't mean to offend youI'm just focused todayAnd I don't know why it's difficultTo admit that I miss youAnd I don't know why we argueAnd I just hope that you listenAnd if I hurt you I'm sorryThe music makes me dismissiveWhen I'm awake I'm just driftin'I'm not complainin'It's just to sayThat I stay pretty busy, latelyAnd I could be misbehavingI just hang with my niggasI'm fuckin' famous if you forgotI'm faithfulDespite all what's in my face and my pocketAnd this is painfully honestAnd when I say it I vomitOn cloudy days when I'm saltyI play the hate to the laundryState to state for the profitIt ain't a stain on me, niggaMy momma raised me a prophetI play for dollar incentiveAnd where I'm walking, it's studdedAnd half-retarded I stumbleTo where she park when she visitI grab the bottle and chug itI see the car in the distanceI know the dark isn't comingFor the moment, if I could hold itShe, she seems thatAll my dreams got dimmerWhen I stopped smoking potNightmares got more vividWhen I stopped smoking potAnd loving you is a little differentI don't like you a lotYou see, it seems likeI'm coming back I gotta handle businessVanish to my sleeper seatLeft you at terminal threeI'll meet you down at baggage claimIn a couple weeks, a fortnightWhen you parade my homecoming, don't cryYou know I can't live in any place I visitTo live and die in laI got my fleetwood macI could get high every dayBut I'd be sleepy, ocd and paranoid, soGive me bali beach, no molly pleasePalm, no marijuana treesYo hickeys on my aortaAnd tattoos you could only seeWhen I'm playing surfboarderPut whisky in that salt waterI emptied every canteen, just to wearThat straight edge varsity you think's coolThey thought me soft in high schoolThank god I'm jaggedForgot you don't like it roughI mean he called me a faggotI was just calling his bluffI mean how anal am I gon' beWhen I'm aiming my gunAnd why's his mug all bloodyThat was a three on one?Standing ovation at staplesI got my grammy's and goldPolka dots on my britI'm not supposed to be stuntingIt's all melodic this songI catch this vibe in my sleepBut I'm just jet-lagged is all, and restlessAll my dreams got more vividWhen I stopped smoking potNightmares got more vividWhen I stopped smoking potAnd loving you is a little differentI don't like you a lotI mean, fuckI don't know what we're aboutWhat good is west coastWeather if you're bi-polar?If I'ma need this sweaterI'd rather be where it's coldWhere it snowsI see how it goesI put the flowers in bowlsI know they're coming in drovesYou'll only miss when it goes(yeah, I think that's it)When it goes
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