Farm To Table Lyrics | Mick Jenkins

Farm To Table Song Lyrics
Farm To Table by Mick Jenkins Aye bad b**ch on my arm and she's no b**ch
Uh smoke straight from the farm I'm on my grow sh*t

Aye
Reposado to sip
How much I pour ya
She in the Oscar de la renta I might have to de la Hoya
Call my lawyer
Don't even ask me
Nigga I came, fashionably late
Her style was conde nasty
That Pyrex
Wit tight neck I swallowed my breath
Hers was more of an architectural digest
I digress
Wit our chests we'd both get to speaking our minds
All kinda interior designs
Superior grapes from inferior vines
Switching time zones these is curious times
It's loose noodles no furious spoons
f**k the waves if I could bury the moon
I mean
sh*t is getting very cartoon

I keep this bad b**ch on my arm and she's no b**ch
Uh smoke straight from the farm I'm on my grow sh*t
No boat made our own waves
You hot or cold no lukewarm
Can't have nobody folding
More coat hangers my way
No low hanging fruit here
I pal trees to the face
Won't speak hate to my face
Y'all on some hoe sh*t

Bad b**ch on my arm and she's no b**ch
Smoke straight the farm I'm on my grow sh*t

I smoke my own sh*t man (what's it called?)

Oh you ain't heard
Uh huh
This sh*t from farm to table, had to run it up
I never harmed an ankle
And a distribution chain so major I could start a label
We done got them '93 boys hotter than Coral Gables
Sometimes I wish I could take a weekend off but I'm hardly able
Louis Vuitton liaisons Pierre Mas out of reach of the DA's arms
And Paris fashion week for perceiving you rappers even having seats
It's an unwopable waffle, the sh*t a masterpiece
Some fine art's Master P
Sidebar cash is king, my large bag of dreams
My daddy went Yankee, his son slanging gasoline
A million in the first three months is like two billion streams
We blowing up like Israel did to Philistines
Gaza strip mobbing through Bethlehem and they rocking Ricks
They bent on us for the way they plundered the continent
Got the world buying plane tickets off of my Ghana trips
I've been walking it my nigga now let me talk my sh*t

Bad b**ch on my arm and she's no b**ch
Uh 93 from the farm, I smoke my own sh*t