Fucked Up Lyrics

I know my voice sounds really fucked up, but I don't really give a fuck, though

In the end, though, I'm still feeling fucking weird, though

But look, though, I ain't. Look

I been grinding. I been hustling

I been staying on top

Everybody, man, it's my time

Y'all know what I'm talking in. Yeah

I been on my fucking grind since a fucking youngie

Since I was a fucking jet, hanging on the corner

So that body sitting there flipping birds, flip them on the curb

Shout out to Larry Bergen, they ain't shoot that shit like Spurs

I ain't never played basketball on that fucking court

Wait a minute, bitch, I'll kick you down the street. That's on my board

So that body, I say shout out to my bros, they know what I'm on

Swear to God, they know I'm eating strong. Bitch, I'm staying home

Everybody, yeah, I say fuck em, cause they not with me

Since I got in the booth and everybody wanna see

Everybody wanna see, yeah, after vision clear

Swear to God, they wanna hand out. I say get it here, get it here

Watch it get smacked and get like head to back

Told that body, like a gun, I ain't even cock it back

Bitch, I'm the hammer, you the motherfucking nail

And I cock it back, I hit it, yeah, three times

You going to hell, going to hell. Fuck that jail cell

Free my dog from, yeah, hell

Swear to God, I get that money, stack that bread up, send the bill

Told that body, swear to God, send his truck, they in that mail

Told that body, yes, I sat down, wrote my dog a letter

I told my dog, yes, I got him, yeah, I got his daughter

I got the problems that he's going through, I gotta solve them

I gotta stack up, I gotta cake up, I gotta eat up

Swear to God, get my motherfucking plate up

I told my dog, look at me, bitch, I'm going far

I'm trying to head to the top, man, I'm going hard

I do this just for all my kinfolk, fuck, yeah, they know what I'm on

They know how hard I'm going, but I'm staying strong

And I say fuck everybody, you ain't with my own

I say to God, I see some shit that going crazy at home

I see some shit that can't, shit can't undo

I swear to God, it's a memory, not a picture of you

Like my name is Vincent Van Gogh, yeah, I'm dope

I'ma paint a picture, yeah, of a fucking dope

And when you open up the door, what's on the other side

You don't even fucking know until it's your ride

Until it's your ride, yeah, until it's in your wise

And like a prize coming, yeah, right back inside

Ha-ha

Yeah, shit, I'm fucked up