Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Ab-Soul
Ab-Soul
Vocals
Da$H
Da$H
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Darien Dash
Darien Dash
Songwriter
Herbert Anthony Stevens IV
Herbert Anthony Stevens IV
Songwriter
William Thomas Trenell Brown
William Thomas Trenell Brown
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Willie B
Willie B
Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Check it out, hey
This is a story all about how
My life got flipped, turned upside down
And if you roll another blunt and keep your mouth shut
I'll tell you how I became the wicked **** they call Young Mind Fuck
[Verse 2]
Black out, black out
Black out, black out
Black out, black out
Black out (Black out, y'all, ay, man)
[Verse 3]
They speak highly of me when I raise my voice
I gotta shoot a fuckin' free throw to make my point
My wittiness leave 'em stuck in the wilderness
You need a backwood to roll to this joint
I'm Robin Hood in Robin jeans, you follow me?
Nevermind, I'm tired of tight analogies
Still in pursuit of happiness in the midst of the madness
With middle fingers to bitches with badges that go oink
[Verse 4]
(Yeah, yeah)
I'm on the fence with common sense
My logic is sound, Spock of the 90746
No shit, Sherlock
Remind 'em of Han Solo on the battlefront
Everybody behind Soulo and they backin' up
I just threw my two-step, let her back it up
Go on, back it up, go on, back it up
You dry-snitchin', I'm slidin' in somethin' moist
You annoy these women, I anoint these women
You stressin' 'em, I schedule an appointment with 'em
They let me cut so much, I bring ointment, ****
I'm lubricant slick, baby, I'm hornier than
The brass section of the band, you understand?
Pick your poison, it's your choice
[Verse 5]
Hey, I'm just a youngin from Del Amo (Lil' homie from the hood)
Yeah, with a belt by Ferragamo (Yeah bitch, I look good)
Hey, just doing what I wanna
This ain't marijuana
Please don't tell my mama
[Verse 6]
I'ma black out, black out, black out, black out
You tellin' white lies while I black out
Black out, black out, black out, black out
Pale white horse when I black out
Black out, black out, black out, black out
Spark the white lighter, then I black out
Even white lives matter when I black out
Bucket of black paint in front of the White House, ****
[Verse 7]
(Yeah, yeah)
I hope I'm in Obama's iPod
Yeah, 'fore I had a desktop
Was lookin' for a shortcut to be an icon
But this time, it's for the money, my ****
Me and the Ichiban Don got itchy palms
And I just left Emmett's with a jar and a intercom
I'ma act an ass and have a donkey to pin it on
I'm winnin' no matter what the decision's dependin' on
I'm sinister, picture a tickin' bomb in the Pentagon
The typical shit I've been on, remember the pen is gone
Your pinnacle's penny-pinchin', I'm gettin' nickels for my thoughts
Like Slim Shady in Balmain jeans
Difficult to say I'm vision impaired, all I seen
I'm Yamborghini High, A$AP, M-O-B
Your sixteen is pint-sized to me
[Verse 8]
Hey, I'm just a youngin from Del Amo (Lil' homie from the hood)
Yeah, with a belt by Ferragamo (Yeah bitch, I look good)
Hey, just doing what I wanna
This ain't marijuana
Please don't tell my mama
[Verse 9]
I'ma black out, black out, black out, black out
You tellin' white lies while I black out
Black out, black out, black out, black out
Pale white horse when I black out
Black out, black out, black out, black out
Spark the white lighter, then I black out
Even white lives matter when I black out
Bucket of black paint in front of the White House, ****
[Verse 10]
Young, no shame, Kurt Cobain, bastard son
With a gun in palm, money, pussy, crime sittin' on my mind
No emotion, orange bottles how I deal with mine
Crackin' bannies only time a **** cross the line
Wrong hand signs'll turn a function to Columbine
Yeah, so, B.O.B's top gunner
Front runner, never die clique, the thing you are not, brother
Polo Ralph Lauren is keepin' the Glock covered
Pour up medication by the brick
Sippin' oil like we're tryna sink a ship
So yeah, uppers and the downers in the mix
Now the film heads talking 'bout a script
Livin' my days is a gamble
I guess that's the perks of the set, bet
Ain't nothin' certain but dirt, that bitch wearin' that skirt
So I guess that I'm flirtin' with death
Need the type of cash cow to get Trump whacked out
Here's the question you should ask
What's the Soul without the Da$h?
Never had the option I could back down
If it's about the cash, then I act out
[Verse 11]
Black out (Black out)
Black out (Black out)
Black out (Black out)
Black out (Black out)
Yeah, so
Written by: Darien Dash, Herbert Stevens, William Brown
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out