Production By Josh Grant

LYRICS

Butt Dial:
Give me a single good reason for leaving
I called you my queen but i was a pawn
Upon your arrival i wasn't alarmed
Told me you loved me but that was a con
Pro with deception that lesson i slept
Gone with affection like less than a peck
On the cheek  in a week it was on to the next
Told me your done over text
I was like give me a week
sorry i needed to vent
Josh had just sent me some beats
Needed to get back on my feet
Why don't you study for tests?
Baby we're both under stress
Maybe i was overzealous
Told me that dude treat you better
That was just to make me jealous
Stomp out that picture of us
Cheers to not giving a fuck
Missing your touch 
but you're a cadaver
Punctured my spine with a dagger
None of it matter
Rag tagged and tattered
Feet dragged on concrete bag under eye
Thick in the thighs i would capitalize
Now another is tapping that prize i coveted 
Temp of an in use oven
my temper fused with a sharp moody plummet
Catch me in the depths if you care
Contemplating death and despair
Travel the ends of the earth
When you cursed me
Hot and cold Middle finger and a curtsy
Lock and load with no mercy
Mercy me
How cold could person be
forget it
Hit me up you could get it

Autopilot:
eyelids heavy 
on the opposite of silent 
clouds parallel no pilot 
the henny in my system made me violent 
fuel tank been through the mileage 
Aircraft stable as my last tape 
Path lost couldn't get the map straight
Style when i scribble with a stylus 
I tossed the formula 
then i brought out the orchestra 
Hangover cause a lot of turbulence 
676 miles from florida 
still no pilot baggins beat like im bilbo cottage 
stackin cheese cause i still know cottage 
work like i keep the steal toe polished 
Through the motions  

autopilot on autopilot on autopilot
autopilot on autopilot on autopilot

since we all die someday
already on autopilot when im on the runway
sabbath with the black out but its rarely on a Sunday's best 
on a one way jetting to a young grave death 
off a pill or two
xanax help conceal the true colors 
of a villain do numbers on her heart on her heart yeah
Keep your seatbelt fasten for depart for departure 
start to call her baby when struck by the baby archer 
fluent in the art the autonomous 
Conscience thought is ominous 
Consequence dire 
Cock pit of my stomach feel the bottomless fire 
get doused with a ounce and a pint and a pint and a pint 
Misfire

Butt Dial/Auto Pilot

i have garbage music taste. FLS dabbling. get the fuck out.

if you met me, I probably didnt tell you I make music. 
Features and Bookings: will.is.chillin@gmail.com

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Butt Dial/Auto Pilot

Will is Chillin'