nothing 2 do

travis thompson

(mom? grandpa's passed out

are there ants?

no

oh

he's okay)

woke up with my jeans on again

i know i'm fucking up

ain't no frame

no sheets on the bed

aching

i stumble up

i keep missing calls on my flip

mom know there something up

smelling like a half-day

my stolen levi's get buttoned up

integra-fitted

we're all your least-favorite children

wasting our life potential 'cause fuck it: we love the feeling

we dumped our guts in yo building

leave with a souvenir

and show up to swim again

yeah

what 'partment's the closest near?

'cause i could give a fuck your momma say we can't hang out no more

let me hold your transfer

shut up: i'll be back next week at four

yeah

they got me and it's tragic

man

they had to ask me for it

group of hazmats smoking

laughing: lil' homie