Travis Scott picked not to modify his luxuriously layered formula book on Astroworld. “NC-17” is not really a sore spot; both Travis and 21 Savage demonstrate on the double that brain research exists amongst sex and savagery. It’s an idea they’ve just started to investigate specifically, maybe on a level of individual commitment. Say your accomplice needs to drop a finger in the under districts, the “NC-17” guard sticker proves to be useful. The same can be said for 21 Savage or Travis when bae hits them for additional innings, the “NC-17” slogan accordingly turns into the notorious sock on the doorknob.
Travis Scott rests an attack rifle by his winged animal making home, 21 Savage pulls a swap mid-session. Regardless of whether he’d will concede, and judging by the organization he keeps, Travis Scott is as yet making sense of his meaning of psychosexual and how it fits into the terrific plan of things.
Three main bitches thinkin’ they my main bitch
Hit the club and swap the hoes I came with
Don’t you come outside, we on that gang shit
Had to switch my t-shirt ’cause she stained it
Had to buy a visa, she from Moscow (21)
Fuckin’ ’round with Travis, you get crossed out
He used to be on, that n**** off now
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