Ok
Bad news, phone call, I'm so-called in my zone
Tryna write a song, tryna master peace

Dressing up for casualties, R.I.p Penny T's
R&b Pendergrass, teddy bears in the street
I can barely bear to be a better me
Best believe, Momma own last first, best worst enemy
Oh, Lord, old Ford, old Dodge, old dude, hodge podge
Hot porridge in the soles of my feet
Shout out to Soulo, 47 killing souls for free
Empty-handed Moss and the kids pissing on my knee
Hold on, gotta breathe
Ok, look
Funny how laughing hard make you crazy
Crazy how crying soft make you nervous
It's nerve-racking that the people that they said blood to purchase
Was brainwashed to feel the most worthless

Bad news, phone call, I'm so-called in my zone
Tryna write a song, tryna master peace
Bad news, phone call, I'm so-called in my zone
Tryna write a song, tryna master peace

(Out of filter tips)
(Guess I'll just use this)
Fresh out of filter tips
I guess I'll just use this
Fresh out of filter tips
Guess I'll just use this
Fresh out of filter tips
I guess I'll just use this

Bad news, phone call, I'm so-called in my zone
Tryna write a song, tryna master peace
Bad news, phone call, I'm so-called in my zone
Tryna write a song, tryna master peace

Years fly by with you
Maybe that's a good thing
Maybe I done found me a good thing
Bird's eye high with you
Got 'em seeing new things
Think I might've found the other shoestring
That was corny but you laughed always do
When I'm with you, I can't even hear things
It's like I'm at the bottom of a rosy pool
I just wanna be here for a couple days
I just want a "Hi, babe"
I can't even think straight
Now I'm up late with replays
Every day's another hour
Every hour's just a minute
Every minute I don't see you, I can see the phrase
I know it's driving you away
And girl, it's driving me insane
Standing under waterfalls calling you
Always gotta struggle with the follow through
It's my fault, it's not on you
It's my fault, it's not on you
I'm just here to drop off
'Cause I'm so anti and you so let's try
And we just might've hit the drop off
But if you don't mind, hold me this one time
'Fore we just fall and get our rocks off
Plus you know I don't fuck with the locks off
Usually, I don't fuck with the socks off
Never that, never trust, not the knock offs
It's too much, it's too much, girl, to hop off
'Cause karma could give a fuck what you fin' to
Or intend to, what your friends do
Reach for the ginsu, pass me the hot sauce

Fresh out of filter tips, uh
Fresh out of filter tips
Hoping this won't hurt a bit
Tell the angels you deserve a list, yeah

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Eian Undrai Parker, Olu O. Fann