Some Days I Hate My Voice

[Verse: Vonne]
Three-four frame, on my face I got paint
I look just like Jackie Shane back in 1968
Chasing chicken, but won't say how many checks is on the way
They'll label me "Class Traitor" 'fore I get a chance to pay
My fucking rent, we done hit a lick, industry a trip
Quiet kept niggas on my shit, writers know the script
But it's diff when you too legit, this right here too bright to miss
We swinging for the fence, but I must admit
Some days I hate my voice, some days I feel like I'm the Metratron
Some days I'm basic, some days I'm dolled up like pageant debutantе
Someday I'll have a closet full of tweed Chanеl, pastel on my black self
Showed up like, "Can't these cats tell how to rap well?"
Ralph Lauren '92 fishtail, gully with the GripTil
Clocky in my Jacquemus, bet you want the **** still
You got on them platforms, okay, nigga, big deal
Bandcamp tax forms breaded with no— ayo
Some days I got a S up on my chest
Gotta run them sound-alikes to get your point across, I guess
Like, "Oh my God, you remind me of 100 Gecs"
Well, I'm sorry gotta disagree, but shout out Laura Les
This Thomas and Guy-man, rap free hand, no mic stand
Can't re-write or typecast, can't bite that, it's hard rock, crack
Dope man, no spokesman, no radio and no Coke can in my hand
Breakfast Club program, direct that straight to the spam
Some days I hate my voice, some days I think I need megaphone
Some days my shit could use a couple semitones
Might bring that Black Flag back, ain't talking Raymond Pettibon
I'm talking team Fetti Gittz, but all in all we getting grown, easy
Shit, was thirteen with Visine
Had to put our flag on the map, this is my scene
Any nigga want a problem, tell 'em come and find me
Gucci X-Ray Spex, bitch, I'm Poly Styrene, uh