Cold Sores

Music: Nicholas Barat/Vincent Valente Lyrics: Nicholas Barat/Vincent Valente VERSE Pull up with a salvadoran nicole kidman, soon as Vincent stroll in bartenders know the business, when i was Young had Goals and ambitions, somewhere Along the road liquor codependence owned the pole position, ya boy grew Up without a bowl to piss in, dad Going missing, mom working two jobs to make sure we had a Loaded fridge, no rodents in the crib and a stove in the kitchen, y'all stay repeating how y'all clothes drippin, shit as a Kid my clothes dripped, cuz my mother had to wash my school Fit and line dry em every night cuz they the only ones i Owned that had fit, so in the morning pull the uniform from the Rope and clip, and throw them b*****s on even tho they was wet, and Hope the other kids ain't notice the drip, that's why my bevs be no soda mixed in, that's why i Don't stress these grown rappers throwing insults that are hidden, bring the jay to my lips like beyoncé knowles kissing, joe Shmoes throwing shows just to Say they throwing shows, i ain't showing unless my ven-mo Clicking, uber eats i ain't coming home less im holding chicken, then i don't dip until the folgers kicked in, vodka and oj got me slumped like nicole simpson, a lotta boldness in they posts but i see no mentions, god grant em serenity to accept things they can't change, Courage to change the things they can, and wisdom to know the difference,

CHORUS: shoot the whiskey but we slow pour the irish stout, throw your rocks, we blow torch the entire house, we not concerned with all the folklorey'all lyin bout, All that shit talkin gon lead to cold sores inside ya mouth, shoot the whiskey but we slow pour the irish stout, throw your rocks, we blow torch the entire house, we not concerned with all the folklorey'all lyin bout, All that shit talkin gon lead to cold sores inside ya mouth,

VERSE 2: CHRIS CRACK People think that hell aint real wasn't paying attention I was on the jukebox playing selections  tending to several investments dope line im just tryna stretch it uncle fester, she a good catcher, teaching hoes lessons keep her melting, Salad with pepperoni ain't eating healthy cheaper sectionsalways got weapons you get beat to death wit  lethal seconds, medieval legends  peep the peasants, I ain't paying interest, on my fee collections  Fill up my joint box, p***y like a coin slot,  making sure my points drop, ain't no gunshots, bumpin punk rock  I'm at the fun spot, you at the bus stop keep the trunk locked, price of bodies, what the pump cost

CHORUS: shoot the whiskey but we slow pour the irish stout, throw your rocks, we blow torch the entire house, we not concerned with all the folklorey'all lyin bout, All that shit talkin gon lead to cold sores inside ya mouth, shoot the whiskey but we slow pour the irish stout, throw your rocks, we blow torch the entire house, we not concerned with all the folklorey'all lyin bout, All that shit talkin gon lead to cold sores inside ya mouth,