More songs by Earl Sweatshirt
More songs by The Alchemist
Description
Vocals: Earl Sweatshirt
Masterer: Joe LaPorta
Mixer: Philippe Weiss
Engineer, Producer: The Alchemist
Programmer: The Alchemist
Writer: Earl Sweatshirt
Writer: The Alchemist
Writer: Ralph Graham
Lyrics and translation
Original
I rem--
I rem--
I rem--
Big grip, get flipped, hand over fist. That's quick.
Snake oil salesman with the pitch. That's slick. Ain't no telling when it end.
No matter the spin, I know when I got a hit. That's it. That shit get sent over the fence.
I'm home, another run on the road. Look how I slid.
I remember the cold and shrugging till I was sore inside the crib.
I don't know what it is. I remember the ghost inside the crib.
Hosing down a problem with gin and tonic. How to stay afloat in a bottomless pit.
The trick is to stop falling. Only option to start with a step. Bet. Son, father, and death.
Big mama with the vision of sorrow. Now I know why they wept.
I watched it brew into a quarrel. I knew just where to bet. Now we having like Dewey Cox out in his shed.
I had to unify all the plurals and pairs.
I promise you I'm truly one of the parts of this shit. A couple sidesplitters got me out of some jams.
I had to style a little so the killers could laugh.
Big grip, get flipped, hand over fist. That's quick.
Snake oil salesman with the pitch.
Ain't no telling when it end. No matter the spin, I know when I got a hit.
That's it. That shit get sent over the fence. I'm home, another run on the road.
Look how I slid.
I remember the cold and shrugging till I was sore inside the crib.
Now I know what it is.
-I remember.
-You know, everybody has their different, uh, ways, you know, what they use them for. But we'll let them explain that to you
English translation
I rem--
I rem--
I rem--
Big grip, get flipped, hand over fist. That's quick.
Snake oil salesman with the pitch. That's slick. Ain't no telling when it end.
No matter the spin, I know when I got a hit. That's it. That shit get sent over the fence.
I'm home, another run on the road. Look how I slid.
I remember the cold and shrugging till I was sore inside the crib.
I don't know what it is. I remember the ghost inside the crib.
Hosing down a problem with gin and tonic. How to stay afloat in a bottomless pit.
The trick is to stop falling. Only option to start with a step. Bet. Son, father, and death.
Big mama with the vision of sorrow. Now I know why they wept.
I watched it brew into a quarrel. I knew just where to bet. Now we having like Dewey Cox out in his shed.
I had to unify all the plurals and pairs.
I promise you I'm truly one of the parts of this shit. A couple sidesplitters got me out of some jams.
I had to style a little so the killers could laugh.
Big grip, get flipped, hand over fist. That's quick.
Snake oil salesman with the pitch.
Ain't no telling when it end. No matter the spin, I know when I got a hit.
That's it. That shit get sent over the fence. I'm home, another run on the road.
Look how I slid.
I remember the cold and shrugging till I was sore inside the crib.
Now I know what it is.
-I remember.
-You know, everybody has their different, uh, ways, you know, what they use them for. But we'll let them explain that to you