Self Songtext
von Noname

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
I had him 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
That's 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?
And niggas are still scared of-


Nah, actually this is for me
This one for TT at the lakes offering the mac and the cheese
This one a small apology for all the calls that I screened

Mr. money man, Mr. every day he got me
Mr. wifing me down, Mr. me love, Mr. Miyagi
Miscellaneous, Mr. molly inside my saki
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 teaching 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