Self

[Verse 1] Maybe this the album you listen to in your car When you driving home late at night Really questioning every god, religion, Kanye, bitches Maybe this is the entrance before you get to the river A heaven before the heathen no reason for you to like me Maybe this your wifey just wanting a clean divorce The baby ain't really yours, this really for babies teething And chicken wings under-seasoned Y'all really thought a bitch couldn't rap huh? Maybe this your answer for that, a crack era The Reagan administration that niggas are still scared of Nah actually this is for me This one for TT at the lake serving the mac and the cheese This one a small apology for all the calls that I screened [Verse 2] Mr. Money Man, Mr. Every Day He Got Me Mr. Wifing Me Down, Mr. Me-Love, Mr. Miyagi Miscellaneous, Mr. Molly Inside My Sake Incredible, incredible emptiness in my body Heaven's only four-feet tall, I set my ringer to it Fucked your rapper homie, now his ass is making better music My pussy teachin ninth-grade English My pussy wrote a thesis on colonialism In conversation with a marginal system in love with Jesus And y'all still thought a bitch couldn't rap huh? Maybe this your answer for that good pussy I know niggas only talk about money and good pussy