Do I Miss My Friends

Cadence Weapon

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    Back in those days
    Back in my end
    We would bro down
    Every weekend
    I miss those times
    I miss those skins
    I had to ask
    Do i miss my friends?

    On the forfeit towns
    Where they misbehave
    Where they skip the bills
    And they radio slave
    I'm a cutthroat boy
    You're an empty grave
    We can still be friends
    When i get off stage

    Yo
    Rat pack
    Sammy davis
    Rap pages
    Betty davis
    Slab tray off the meat rack
    Beat factcheckers need to take a fucking break
    If you know what i mean
    You know what i mean
    My current girl is a stewardess
    But she ain't fly
    She's well grounded
    Still astounded to see me try
    To play around with the boundaries
    Beats hotter than a foundry
    Less beef than a pantry
    Don't call me tom like landry
    Call me alec simon with the words that i'm rhymin'
    With the peculiar timing
    Or friends by proximity
    I have friends who spend in loud numbers
    I have friends who depend on cloud cover
    I have friends who don't know my name
    My favorite friend, she believes in change
    When i tell her about the core of a man
    All she says is, "i'm a woman"
    So then i say

    Back in those days
    Back in my end
    We would bro down
    Every weekend
    I miss those times
    I miss those skins
    I had to ask
    Do i miss my friends?

    On the forfeit towns
    Where they misbehave
    Where they skip the bills
    And they radio slave
    I'm a cutthroat boy
    You're an empty grave
    We can still be friends
    When i get off stage

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    My friends have dreams
    Now guess why we're friends
    Common bonds come along like common songs
    With an offbeat delivery and awkward obscenity
    Odd are it's here
    We walk by the river stream
    And wonder about the life and death of chivalry
    I'm bumping tough
    I have a really good memory
    And to the jerk that said words don't hurt
    Talk to me for a change
    I'll treat ya like pac in a range
    My ex-girlfriend talks to me real strange
    Cause she knows being closer would make her hate me forever
    Got a hoodie that's clever, draped in bone leather
    When was it last we hung out together?
    It was a scene like
    Put me on a rack
    Or rag me with guilt
    Or rack up some kills
    Or crack up some krills
    So you can look good for your friends

    Back in those days
    Back in my end
    We would bro down
    Every weekend
    I miss those times
    I miss those skins
    I had to ask
    Do i miss my friends?

    On the forfeit towns
    Where they misbehave
    Where they skip the bills
    And they radio slave
    I'm a cutthroat boy
    You're an empty grave
    We can still be friends
    When i get off stage

    I'm done shaking hands under pounds and waves
    Because i don't have sex on the very first date
    You're trying to fuck
    But i know people like you who spend a whole night saying what they might do
    And i'm a doer not a sayer, shaker and a mover
    With the kind of strange dream that hits your brain like a tumor
    Two more awkward encounters with ex-one nighters
    And i'm done shooting off my mouth at gunfighters
    I run writers and walk printers
    Crowded email
    I officially block senders
    Asking "do you remember early december
    We hung out together
    I tried to find you on friendster"
    Well i haven't used that since limewire
    Tearaways in junior high alienation
    So i apologize for this confirmation of the touring musician stereotype
    I'm the same guy who's drunk and probably a bit bored
    Hahahahahaha to be honest

    Back in those days
    Back in my end
    We would bro down
    Every weekend
    I miss those times
    I miss those skins
    I had to ask
    Do i miss my friends?

    On the forfeit towns
    Where they misbehave
    Where they skip the bills
    And they radio slave
    I'm a cutthroat boy
    You're an empty grave
    We can still be friends
    When i get off stage

    Afterparties
    My dad said i was an afterparty baby
    This goes out to all the accidents out there
    Keep on making mistakes

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    Composición: Cadence Weapon

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