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letra de butt dial/auto pilot - will is chillin'

b-tt dial:
give me a single good reason for leaving
i called you my queen but i was a pawn
upon your arrival i wasn’t alarmed
told me you loved me but that was a con
pro with deception that lesson i slept
gone with affection like less than a peck
on the cheek in a week it was on to the next
told me your done over text
i was like give me a week
sorry i needed to vent
josh had just sent me some beats
needed to get back on my feet
why don’t you study for tests?
baby we’re both under stress
maybe i was overzealous
told me that dude treat you better
that was just to make me jealous
stomp out that picture of us
cheers to not giving a f-ck
missing your touch
but you’re a cadaver
punctured my spine with a dagger
none of it matter
rag tagged and tattered
feet dragged on concrete bag under eye
thick in the thighs i would capitalize
now another is tapping that prize i coveted
temp of an in use oven
my temper fused with a sharp moody plummet
catch me in the depths if you care
contemplating death and despair
travel the ends of the earth
when you cursed me
hot and cold middle finger and a curtsy
lock and load with no mercy
mercy me
how cold could person be
forget it
hit me up you could get it
autopilot:
eyelids heavy
on the opposite of silent
clouds parallel no pilot
the henny in my system made me violent
fuel tank been through the mileage
aircraft stable as my last tape
path lost couldn’t get the map straight
style when i scribble with a stylus
i tossed the formula
then i brought out the orchestra
hangover cause a lot of turbulence
676 miles from florida
still no pilot baggins beat like im bilbo cottage
stackin cheese cause i still know cottage
work like i keep the steal toe polished
through the motions
autopilot on autopilot on autopilot
autopilot on autopilot on autopilot
since we all die someday
already on autopilot when im on the runway
sabbath with the black out but its rarely on a sunday’s best
on a one way jetting to a young grave death
off a pill or two
xanax help conceal the true colors
of a villain do numbers on her heart on her heart yeah
keep your seatbelt fasten for depart for departure
start to call her baby when struck by the baby archer
fluent in the art the autonomous
conscience thought is ominous
consequence dire
c-ck pit of my stomach feel the bottomless fire
get doused with a ounce and a pint and a pint and a pint
misfire

- will is chillin

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