Cover art for Sleep by Vince Staples & Larry Fisherman
Jun. 20, 20131 viewer55K views

Sleep Lyrics

[Intro: Da$h]
Yeah
Soul
Nigga

[Verse 1: Da$h]
Catch me on a drunk night, throwin' up a dirt bike (Bike)
English dikes on the back and they screamin', "Fuck life" (Fuck it)
To be honest, only fuck twice (Uh)
My drug jacket got the thug stripes (Nigga)
I'm glad they hate me, they ain't love Christ or Mike Jordan either (Nope)
Dip my blunts in ether, chase the last name of Aretha
When they hear me through the speakers
Man, these niggas know I mean it (Know I mean it)
The mannerisms of a genius, models downin' semen
The flow is scenic, the ho is black, the car is European
Cream soda what we put the lean in
Fuck your team, your clique, whatever you bangin'
I come through, blunt lit, bucket low, nuts hangin'
Like, nigga, what? Nigga, yawk! Niggas know me
The fuckin' dollar, crossed to the dark side, so it's fuck Obi Kenobi
You active, motherfucker, then show me
I tell your fuckin' wife to blow me
Nigga, it's still fuck you (Still fuck you)

[Verse 2: Ab-Soul]
Yo, still searchin' for Easter pink on Easter Sunday
Black lip pastor Herb done lit the herb and passed it your way
Master with the nouns and verbs, you haven't heard the wordplay?
I'm the most def here, shouts to black Dante
The stakes is high, who'd like to climb up my gate?
Live from the last name of Kanye
I heard your whoop-de-whoop and blasé-blasé
So when I cut you off, consider Kendrick Lamar

You know it's all in the family tree
The helix of my DNA should read T-D-E, what can I say? (I don't know what to tell you?)
I left a acid tab for Da$h on his dashboard
I hope he don't crash tryna dash for it

Your bitch fuckin' like, like I paid cash for it
Motherfucker (Soul)
[Verse 3: Mac Miller]
Uh, it's young Fisherman sinkin' in Lake Michigan
Innocence, voice of an angel, so Minnie Riperton
Gettin' lit exquisite, bitch, live from the Wimbledon
Still sinnin' as Bill Clinton, that's ill pimpin'
She butt-naked swimmin', I'm payin' her no attention
Workaholic, got a TV show, I know you seen the crib
Nasty since a youngin', it's unsanitary birth
Watch this beat get buried in a hearse, yeah I kill myself
Mac hippy analog, rap midi, turn the cameras off
I made you snap, I'll slap your bandana off
Your bitch greet me like I'm Santa Claus
Mouth wide, I'm high as a satellite, see
I'm in ancient Greece, gettin' head from Aphrodite
Mac is mighty, got a bunch of whities actin' like me
I set the bar high, this a bizarre ride, word to Pharcyde
In plaid pants, hit a hole in one on the par five
Eyes closed, drinkin' whiskey, let the car drive
These hoes thirsty, see the dick and they large-eyed

[Verse 4: Vince Staples]
Never gave a dollar to the pastor
Hoes can't get inside my home without the password
My past worth was measured by those who got less then now
Safe to say you motherfuckers know you like my style
Paved the way for they newfound vision
Now they mad at a nigga, call me dad when you preachin', boy
Never one for trippin', find me full-speed sprintin'
While they yellin', "Coldchain"
Please tell me what it is and what it ain't
Niggas snifflin', catchin' feelings while I'm laughin' to the bank
Chasin' bitches that they'll probably never get, what a shame
Meanwhile I'll be sittin' in this critical acclaim
Walkin' drowsy off a plane, drinkin' water in the rain
With your daughter tryna garnish her brain for future reference
I'm some shit you'll never see in the game
And if I could I'd explain, but this right here's the end

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Credits
Featuring
Mixing Engineer
Recorded At
The Sanctuary, Studio City, CA
Released on
June 20, 2013
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