Children’s Song

Pressin' five 'til the pen free my Aphex Twin In the street like I ain't really tryna scrape that rim (uh) Niggas be like (like) "Ayy, bro, 'member back when?" ('member back when?) Let it go, loc (let it go, loc) I'm way too rich to be your friend (on the hood) I'm way too lit to let you dim me (niggas can't dim me) Ridin' 'round South Pasadena on a ten speed And I still got blicky (boom) And I still get tricky (still get tricky) It is what it is (still get filthy) Don't play with my Crippin', go play with your kids, bitch (yeah) Don't play with my Crippin', go play with your kids, bitch (yeah) Don't play with my Crippin', go play with your kids Don't play with my—, go play with your— Don't play with my Crippin', go play with your kids, bitch (damn, damn) (Yeah) Don't be callin' my phone after eight, I'm at home (Ayy, check it out, yeah) Ayy, don't be callin' my phone after eight, I'm in bed, bitch (bitch) And if I'm with a bitch, it's not none of your business Gotta keep this shit bliss, gotta keep this shit ignant Pray this not what the devil intended (nah) It's money outside, go and get it Make a ticket Up all night with the smokers and crickets I been broke all my life, had to flip it All these grown niggas livin' off women (what?) (They doin' what?) That ain't no real shit Don't play with my Crippin', go play with your kids, bitch (damn) Don't play with my Crippin', go play with your kids, bitch (damn) Don't play with my Crippin', go play with your— Don't play with my—, go play with your— Don't play with my Crippin', go play with your kids, bitch (Yeah) Don't play with my Crippin', go play with your kids, bitch