Earl Sweatshirt – AM // Radio (ft. Wiki) (Audio, Lyrics, Video)

Listen, MP3 Download, Watch video and get the lyrics to AM // Radio by Earl Sweatshirt featuring Wiki. Produced by RandomBlackDude.

Earl Sweatshirt Am Radio (ft. Wiki)

What a time to be alive for Earl Sweatshirt, the self-professed introvert and brilliant author of the brooding I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside. Released five years ago to this day, the former Odd Future lyricist’s sophomore project served up a darker side of his consciousness, lined with murky soundscapes befitting of his deliberately lethargic flow. For many, I Don’t Like Shit was a difficult hurdle to climb. Not only did it put Earl’s bleak and cynical worldview on full display, but it did so over a niche and discomforting production. And yet as a work of art, it’s impossible to deny the project’s merit.

Never has a project been less concerned with the public’s response, perhaps ever. And yet for those willing to spend some dark basking in Earl’s gloom, there are plenty of stellar bars to unpack. None more present than on “AM//Radio,” a collaboration with New York rapper Wiki, who sets the tone with the opening verse. The man of the hour whether he likes it or not, it’s Earl who ultimately takes the crown, unleashing an extensive salvo lined with clever wordplay and understated flexes. “I got the gold cause I don’t do the crying bro, she Mario, I’m tryna keep the whining to a minimum,” he raps. “Piggies come, bet I’m splittin’ quicker than I finish rum.”

Five years removed from its initial release, how do you feel about Earl’s sophomore album?

Earl Sweatshirt – AM // Radio (ft. Wiki) (prod. RandomBlackDude)

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Lyrics

[Part 1: AM]

[Verse 1: Wiki]
Nineteen, still gettin’ kicked out the crib
Ripped off my bib, spit out my food, hiccup and piss
Urine burnin’, I could smell the liquor in this
Cats always tryna’ pick up the fist—”Duff this dude out”
Rappers stoop just to get to your crib
Now it’s like bruised face, loose walk, too sauced
Distraught thoughts on my corpse on the asphalt
Back when I’d slack off, rock my slacks of my ass half-off
Every time I rap I blast-off
Back when I catch court I always had sports
Dippin’ on cops in my track shorts
So tell my mom I had to make it right
I lie every night about the lime-light so I could lie at night
And tell my pops I gotta take advice
Keep my head screwed on tight, abuse these mics
See me, I’m the contusion type
A cat to smack the mic
Against my fuckin’ head when I’m losing hype
RATKING, never losing hype, no
Smack king and I do it right, no
RATKING, yeah, I do it nice, woah

[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
Bitch, I skated before I rapped
If you take me before your captain, bet 20 hots on your daddy
That someone could Noila Clap ’em
Probably cold and passive
Cause Pops was the one that got to me
Feeling down like he passed it
And when I’m cornered, it’s action, I was kinda out the game
Momma put the quarter right back in the slot
In ’09, we took the 7 to the Dussy 17 to the block
Bitch, if yo’ nigga had Supreme, we was the reason he copped it
And nowadays I’m on the hunt for mirrors to box with
And some pretty bitches that ain’t trip if it’s a hit and run
I got the gold cause I don’t do the crying, bro
She Mario, I’m tryna keep the whining to a minimum
Piggies come, bet I’m splittin’ quicker than I finish rum
Find me some Indica, nuggets on my fingers
And my shirt like they was chicken crumbs
The room spinnin’, finna yak if I don’t hit the blunt
Got the chin waggin’, slim chances of me getting up after this
Mind in the trash next to where my fuckin’ passion went
Dodge fanatics, half-a-Xanax when I’m traveling
Six hours or more, brick out on the tour
Got kicked out of the morgue, spit cattle manure shit
Shit, rally the Horsemen, tally the corpses

[Part 2: Radio]

[Instrumental]