6 Summers Lyrics - Anderson Paak

Wait a minute! 

Trump's got a love child and I hope that bitch is buckwild 

I hope she sip Mescale-, I hope she kiss senoritas and black gals 

I hope her momma's El Salv, I hope her poppa stick around, yeah 

Take chains off, take rangs off 

Bracelets and things, big aches and pains 

My jack rang off with clickbait 

Truth is too raw, it's a fish plate 

Fay-Lay, the kunte 

A hunnid and fifty of us on the big stage? 

How long it took a nigga just to get paid? 

And now I think I'm 'bout to buy a Bentley, pronto 

I'm in LA with the shaker and bongo 

I heard your tape, do or die, it was compo- 

Trimmin' the bream with the blade and lawnmow' 

Figure it out, nigga 

Bitch, don't spill my sake 

You gon'make me kick you out this 'partment 

You gon' have to kick it in the lobby 

Damn, but don't somebody stop me, I'm too sloppy 

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Trump's got a love child and I hope that bitch is buckwild 

I hope she sip Mescale, I hope she kiss senoritas and black gals 

I hope her momma's El Salv, I hope her poppa stick around, yes, Lord 

The revolution will not be televised but it will be streamed live in 1080p on your peabrain head in the face ass mobile device, alright! 

This shit gon' bang at least six summers from out that rock you been under 

Mummy wrapped, duffel bag, gutter bunny 

It's hard to stomach cold murder 

It's easier to get a nine millimeter 

He was nineteen with a burner, they had to off 'em 

Reform, reform shoulda came sooner 

Wait a minute! 

This shit gon' bang for at least six summers 

(Summers, summers, summers, summers, summers, summers, summers) 

Word! 

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This shit gon' bang for at least six summers 

But ain't shit gon' change for at least three summers 

They tryna kill a nigga faith, we need a little truth, brother 

Pop-pop-pop goes the shooter 

Reform, reform shoulda came sooner 

Come on 

This shit gon' bang at least six summers 

Pop the top, that bitch hot than a motha 

We need more and less long gunners 

Put down your heat and smoke marijuana 

Pop the lock off your muzzle 

Niggas is dyin' like lost files in the shuffle 

We know you lyin', my nigga, naw, we don't trust you 

We know you buy to sell it back to the public 

'Cause there's money to made in the killin' spree 

That's why he tryna start a war on the Twitter feed 

Somebody take this nigga's phone, is you kiddin' me? 

Take them AKs up outta these Inner City streets 

This shit gon' bang for at least six summers 

But ain't shit gon' change for at least three summers 

They tryna kill a nigga faith, we need a little truth, brother 

Pop-pop-pop goes the shooter 

Reform, reform shoulda came sooner 

And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain 

Get the Coltrane and the Cobain 

And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain 

Get the Coltrane and the Cobain 

Dear Mr. President, it's evident that you don't give a damn 

Ssh-Tell me somethin' that I don't know 

All this fuckin' evidence and if it ever make it to the stand, ssh-you know they gon' let 'em go, bro 

You was overseas stealin' niggas' land and oil 

Billy copped the Desert Eagle and it's legal to tote it 

Lil' nigga bullied out his Pumas but why he have to shoot the whole school up? 

And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain 

Get the Coltrane and the Cobain 

And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain 

Get the Coltrane and the Cobain 

This shit gon' bang at least six summers 

Word! 

(Summers, summers, summers, summers, summers, summers, summers) 

This shit gon' bang for at least six summers 

But ain't shit gon' change for at least three summers 

They tryna kill a nigga faith, we need a little truth, brother 

Pop-pop-pop goes the shooter 

Reform, reform shoulda came sooner