Everybody's Something Lyrics - Singles - Chance The Rapper

Ladies loving my music is like some sex shit 

Niggas trying to grip up my mic like it's a dick (On the mic like it's a dick) 

Run around the corner to pick up the new shit (The shit) 

Toss this in the deck so niggas can catch rep 

What's good, good? And what's good, evil? 

And what's good, gangstas? And what's good, people? 

And whys God's phone die every time that I call on Him? 

Swallow them synonyms like cinnamon Cinnabon 

Keep all them sentiments down to a minimum 

Studious Gluteus Maxim models is sending him 

Pics of they genitalia tallied up ten of 'em 

I slurped too many pain-kills, down I'm off a lot 

I got a lot off days but it ain't often that I'm off the clock 

Ya Kna Wha Mean, I got the Chicago Blues 

We invented rock before the Stones got through 

We just aiming back cause the cops shot you 

Buck buck bang bang, yelling "Fuck Fox News!" 

Booyaka buckle up, mothafuck opps too 

Ain't no knuckling up 'em young cause it just not cool 

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Nice to see you Father New Year 

Middle finger Uncle Samuel 

Shooting death with weighted dice 

And hitting stains on birthday candles 

I know somebody, somebody loves my ass 

Cause they help me beat my demons ass 

Everybody's somebody's everything 

I know you right 

Nobody's nothing 

That's right 

Right? IGH 

I used to tell hoes I was dark light or off white 

But I'd fight if a nigga said that I talk white 

And both my parents was black 

But they saw it fit that I talk right 

With my drawers hid but 

My hard head stayed in the clouds like a lost kite 

But gravity had me up in a submission hold 

Like I'm dancing with the Devil with two left feet and I'm pigeon toed 

In two small point ballet shoes with a missing sole 

And two missing toes 

But it's love like Cupid kissing a mistletoe 

Photos 

Like Cassius ducking the draft and now the fight is over 

The type to love from a distance not the type that told her 

Spent three days on the rap, trash it and type it over 

With babies on the block under arms like fighting odors 

Coppers and quotas 

Hold ya head like 2Pac had taught 

Obviously they are on a come up 

With better chances tobogganing in the fucking summer 

Concoctions for the bad days and a condom for the good ones 

All odds against we tryna get lucky 

Doper than Lucky 

You're ending happy that's only a tugging 

Like Satan masturbating shit come hot 

But y'all still love me ugh 

How father time a deadbeat 

Maybe I'm adopted 

That'll explain why all of my shit been so timeless IGH