Molasses
Earl Sweatshirt Lyrics


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Search inside my purse to buy something worthless

Ninety-nine problems all gone in that one joint
And that neck gold froze like he held it at gunpoint
I'm a bubble in the belly of the monster
With a duffle full of troubles, trunk rattle in the Mazda
Ragged with the Contra, Phantom of the Opera
And I'm standing on the cop's truck, stacking for the long run
The bags packed, roadside with the thumb out
Toe tagged, don't gag, spit your gum out
Nomadic, chrome-grabbing when it's danger
I'm a manger-born puppy holding flight like a hangar do
Knife to the trachea spit, scabies and bet
The label don't like me but they pay me a grip
And you see how his day going by the state of his wrists
Y'all niggas busy Play-Dohing, bet the baker came swinging like
What the fuck you saying? All that aiming and miss
Ay, I'ma fuck the freckles off your bitch, nigga

I'll fuck the freckles off your face, bitch
We could do this shit all night
I'll fuck the freckles off your face, bitch

You know me, drugs out, 'front the telly
I'm couch-drunk and ready to fuck, count fetti and bucks
Pack loud as that slap 'cross the belly
What's up? Fuck nigga, what's up?
I'm at the deli scheming on a Fanta and a Camel Crush
Screaming, "Saddle up!" like, "Fuck is beef?" Get your cattle cut, pansy
If them fans only local, why them flights trans-atlantied up?
The rice and patty's cooked, nice for the chancellor
Them teeth with the gold bright, the light switches mad at us
Snapchatting panty-clad baddies, I'm a bachelor
I'm high and polite 'cause po-lice is in back of us
And write with the same hand I smack 'em up with
Stretching out the fifteen I had initially
Icky Thump, sticky kush lit up in a rental Jeep

We could do this shit all night
I'll fuck the freckles off your face, bitch




We could do this shit all night
I'll fuck the freckles off your face, bitch

Overall Meaning

The lyrics to Earl Sweatshirt's song "Molasses" are a reflection of the rapper's thoughts and experiences. The song contains themes of drug use, violence, and the struggles associated with fame. The first line, "Search inside my purse to buy something worthless," speaks to Earl's desire to numb himself with drugs and the path of destruction it leads to. The following line, "99 problems all gone in that one joint," shows how easy it is to rely on drugs to escape problems.


The second verse continues with the idea of living dangerously as Earl references himself as a "bubble in the belly of the monster." He describes having a "duffle full of troubles" while driving in a "Mazda" with a rattling trunk. In the next line, he's "ragged with the Contra," possibly referencing the Central American conflict of the '80s. He then portrays himself as the Phantom of the Opera, standing on the cop's truck as if he owns it. The line "the bags packed, roadside with the thumb out" suggests that Earl is always on the move, possibly running from something. This line directly leads into "toe tagged, don't gag, [fag], spit your gum out," which reads as a warning to those who cross him. At its core, "Molasses" portrays Earl Sweatshirt as someone who is dealing with personal demons.


Line by Line Meaning

Search inside my purse to buy something worthless
I'm searching through my bag to buy something that won't bring me any value or happiness.


99 problems all gone in that one joint
All my problems disappear when I smoke weed.


And the neck gold froze like he held it at gunpoint
His gold necklace is so shiny that it looks like someone pointed a gun at him to make him freeze.


I'mma bubble in the belly of the monster
I'm a small, insignificant person in a dangerous and unpredictable world.


With a duffle full of troubles, trunk rattle in the Mazda
I have a bag full of problems and my car is old and falling apart.


Ragged with the Contra, Phantom of the Opera
I'm wearing worn-out clothes and feel invisible like the Phantom of the Opera.


And I'm standing on the cop's truck, stacking for the long run
I'm standing on the hood of a police car, planning for the future and stacking money.


The bags packed, roadside with the thumb out
I have my bags packed and I'm hitchhiking on the side of the road.


Toe tagged, don't gag, [fag], spit your gum out
I'm dead and my toes are tagged, but I don't care about that slur, just get rid of your gum.


Nomadic, chrome-grabbing when it's danger
I'm a wanderer, always ready to grab my chrome gun when there's trouble.


I'm a manger born puppy holding flight like a hangar do
I was born to be a leader but still feel like a lost dog holding onto my flight like a hangar.


Knife to the trachea spit, scabies and bet
I'm violent and will stab you in the neck with a knife, so don't bet against me.


The label don't like me but they pay me a grip
Even though my record label doesn't like me, they still pay me a lot of money.


And you see how his day going by the state of his wrists
You can tell how someone's day is going by looking at the condition of their wrists, such as if they're wearing a watch or not.


My niggas busy play doughing, bet the baker came swinging like
My friends are focused on making money while I'm rapping, but I'm not worried about getting in trouble.


What the fuck you saying? All that aiming and miss
What are you talking about? You're not making any sense and your attempts to be successful have failed.


I'mma fuck the freckles off your bitch, nigga
I will have sex with your girl so hard that her freckles will disappear.


We could do this shit all night
We could have sex all night long.


You know me, drugs out, 'front the telly
I'm high on drugs and in front of the television.


I'm couch-drunk and ready to fuck, count fetti and bucks
I'm drunk on the couch and ready to have sex while counting my money.


Pack loud as that slap 'cross the belly
The weed I have is so strong that it hits you hard like a slap to the stomach.


What's up? Fuck nigga, what's up?
What's going on? I'm ready to fight, what's up with you?


I'm at the deli scheming on a Fanta and a Camel Crush
I'm at the store planning to buy a Fanta soda and Camel Crush cigarettes.


Screaming "Saddle up!" like fuck is beef? Get your cattle cut, pansy
I'm yelling to prepare for a fight, like we're ranchers cutting the cattle, don't be weak.


If them fans only local, why them flights trans-atlantied up?
If my fans are only in one area, why am I traveling across the Atlantic to perform?


The rice and patty's cooked, nice for the chancellor
The food is prepared and ready for a leader such as the chancellor.


Them teeth with the gold bright, the light switches mad at us
My teeth with the gold grill are shining so bright that the light switches are jealous.


Snap chatting panty clad baddies, I'm a bachelor
I'm using Snapchat to talk to women in their underwear and I'm single.


I'm high and polite cause po-lice is in back of us
I'm polite and courteous because the police are following behind us.


And write with the same hand I smack 'em up with
I write with the same hand that I use to hit people.


Stretching out the fifteen I had initially
I'm making the most of the $15 I had at the beginning.


Icky Thump, sticky kush lit up in a rental Jeep
I'm listening to a song called Icky Thump while smoking high-quality weed in a rental Jeep.


We could do this shit all night
We could have sex all night long.


I'll fuck the freckles off your face, bitch
I will have sex with your girl so hard that her freckles will disappear.


We could do this shit all night
We could have sex all night long.




Lyrics © THE ROYALTY NETWORK INC., Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Royalty Network, Peermusic Publishing, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Written by: Thebe Kgositsile, Robert Diggs, Clement Dodd, Kehinde Hassan, Taiwo Hassan, Lennie Hibbert

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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