Cinema - Mr. Fly Guy Lyrics

I'mma bouta go Saturday Night Lights on a boy
No Life of Pablo tour on this joint, this is gonna be a smooth play
Some Madlib on Freddie Gibbs schtick
I don't even think I curse on this bad boy
Husky, get up on the tractor

I got you babe
I got you babe

I'm mixing cake, got champaign up in the escalade
Mummy told me pray for the gate before she change the cape
It's small town politics, economy of piety
I moved to the creek back in primary
Was the cherry on top
Went from spas to the crocs
Slippin' on the flip-flops
Freestyle in the moss
But how much it cost to get
SUV's for the guests
Set up pitcher's in the tents
You acclimatin' to the stasis
Patty-caking in the basement
Facing middle-class purgatory we smokin' up with hastineess
I'm peddling with my number 1
It's 27 on the dial, the sun'll crack me like a hit and run
I'm not heady, but they'd see me go Mike Perry and Matt Beaty
When kids push me, so keep 'em ready
She remembers catching number 3 up on the highway
It was the highlight of my day
Go home and text on interface
I'm playin' keeper for the best friend
So hot I'm incandescent
The mothers'll love my presence
I'm battin' averages of Bellinger
The barrister's no editor
The only thing keeping me off the plate is myself
I'm an investor

I ain't even tryin' to be up in your face
With this old-school samplin' stuff, you know
I got you babe
You know how it is, you know how it is
I got you babe

No Woolies, wrap that toy up in the bag and slink on out when it's poolin'
They tell me clean out the cat, who they think they foolin'
I'mma fool, open the slats
Venetian blinds hide the angst
Got crosses on the stand
But you bet the coffers be filled with all that paper that's pourin' in
Doesn't work to complain
All that moula from Mars we depositing in the foreign banks
They f*ckin' hate what it means
But if we honest with ourselves
It ain't much of a scene
Rates is paid relatively safe
We've had a chick on account
Since the turn of the century
But if you lookin' for clout
This ain't the type of industry
We need to contemplate a re-route
Peace out
Baggy trackies got daddy's bitin' for superannuation
Retirement talk before you know your situation
They're callin' cabs and payin' with their Centrelink statements
I'm facin' 50 years of pie before my graduation
Roll out the massage seasts
I want the XCOM treatment, aliens on the stick
Top Gear, shift it in
Hit it back, I'm the Stig
Pigs sit in the thick
My home's holdin' no licks
Jesus don't bless me like you did to those kids.

I got you babe
I got you babe