Why you looking at me now? Why you looking at me again? What if I pulled my teeth? Cut my hair underneath my chin, wrap my curls all around the world, throw my pearls all across the floor. Feeling my beat like a sniper girl, cause I want it more.
I’d constantly be getting emails from producers and stuff being like, “I’d love to work on some tracks on your album.” It’s infuriating, even just to get to the point where I could produce my own record, and have everyone fuck off and not give me shit for it. Just let me do my fucking job, why else am I here? I don’t want to be just like the face of this thing that I built, I want to be the person who built it.