Couch Lyrics - Earl Sweatshirt

If this was a game 

I already know that I would come out winner 

And I'm not braggin', I'mma be in her 

But this bitch really think that I'm 'bout to buy her dinner 

My steak good, I got a good cut like splinter 

Juicy and hot such a black bitch temper 

Now she wanna talk and chop it up like a blender 

But I don't give a fuck and keep her list'in like Schindler 

She's cute but her forehead's big 

Got stretch marks like she got four kids 

Her legs can't close like the four door hinge Bronco 

That O.J. killed the white hos with 

A wealthy white girl without the facelift 

Lure her with expensive dinners and a nice bracelet 

Leave the bitch breathless, what the bitch don't know is that 

I'm a muthafuckin' sellout and a rapist 

Baby, you're an angel 

How 'bout we turn this into a fable of some sort? 

You already know you're dead 

Ironic cause your lipstick is red, of course 

I stuff you in the trunk, drunk 

Cause all I really wanna do is fuck and snort blow 

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If this was a game 

I would be considered a muthafuckin' legend 

And I ain't tryna gas you up like Chevron 

But I'm high as fuck bitch, you really need to get on my leverage 

Now we're in the cabin, in the middle of uhh 

Tryna find ways to really stuff you in my cabinet 

Dreamy little bastard, I done ran outta luck so now 

It's time for a bloody foot you little rabbit 

You're very attractive, and notice that 

My hat is always the color of cactus 

And I hang with wolves cause I'm an evil Bastard 

Pictures of you on my wall no glue, no tape but just cum plastered 

Met you at my school, departed at my house 

Ended at your panties, started at your blouse 

Pushed you down stairs, I took a nap up on the couch 

If you wanted a date, don't come 

Now you gotta make it easy for me don't run 

You call this shit kids, well I call these kids cum 

And you call this shit rape but I think that rape's fun 

Wait now it's about eight somethin 

It's late and you stuck in my base-one 

Come downstairs with nothin' but a shoe string 

Yeah bitch this date's done 

Photos 

Baby, you're an angel 

How 'bout we turn this into a fable of some sort? 

You already know you're dead 

Ironic cause your lipstick is red, of course 

I stuff you in the trunk, drunk 

Cause all I really wanna do is fuck and snort blow 

I like my girls how I like my drugs, white 

Lord, you're so pretty, lyin' in my arms 

I just got one request, stop breathin'