Fleetwood - ATMOSPHERE

There’s no winners at the ass-kissing contest

Not even the judge

Identify the object but keep it in your pocket

And try to leave the page before you start to read the comments

I can’t remember when she wasn’t asking what was wrong

I’m not offended, I’m pretending it’s just because of the songs

While I was rendering my life, y’all put the shuffle on

It’s like I’m standing on the corner of Lyndale and Lake

I’m staring at the shit displayed behind the windows and gates

Patient waiting for the bus to carry me down the street

I feel like fuck you January, got me freezing my feet

Sleeping on the plane, tryna find time travel

Like you high enough to see inside of the galaxy’s asshole

They follow you and swallow you like a black hole

Ey, I’m not the same dude I used to be, thankfully

Permanently angry, tryna burn your little angel wings

My shit still stinks, nobody’s changing me

You trying to get dope?

I’m tryna take over a bakery

You kinda look like the type that might book flights

When faced with adversity, the first to be like «good night»

Took a long pull, high

I been around the world and ai-ai-ai

I can’t find a sweet spot to squat and die-ie-ie

Y’all be talking hella shit, I guess I probably would as well

I walk like an elephant, shook the bell, you took the L and

Flipped it upside down like a crush, yo

Let go of my tusk before the mountain erupts

And everybody’s like, what, we ain’t know it’s a volcano, fuck

Fuck