"Knock Knock" lyrics

Knock knock with the knowledge
Knock knock with the knowledge
Knock knock with the knowledge
Knock knock with the knowledge that you
The knowledge that you
That you are my son

Knock knock with the knowledge
Knock knock with the knowledge
Knock knock with the knowledge
Knock knock with the knowledge that you
The knowledge that you
That you are my son

I'm writing my words right on the spot
I'm telling you man this girl is hot
She's my tamalè my tabasco
My fiasco so I'm not calm
And even when Siri says I'm right I am wrong
Making me want to bite right off my own tongue

But then I couldn't kiss her like she want me to
And then I couldn't diss her like she know I do
I like to think my life is in my hands shame
My mom and my girl both asking where u been like I got two chains
And no balls to cut them off cause that would be a pain
Vasectomy New York now I've seen more than you would think man

I hit that 24
It's that quarter life
Can I get that sort of life
Not thinking there's more to life

This ain't no stream of consciousness
I'm so blocked up like god damn
I wish my mind was bottomless

And there's two voices in my head at least they always agree
And poetry don't mind if you're pretty or you're ugly
And following the signs won't get you to the honey
So comb your hair back if you're good at making money

And there's two voices in my head at least they always agree
And poetry don't mind if you're pretty or you're ugly
And following the signs won't get you to the honey
So comb your hair back if you're good at making money

And there's two voices in my head at least they always agree
And poetry don't mind if you're pretty or you're ugly
And following the signs won't get you to the honey
So comb your hair back if you're good at making money

Knock knock knock with the knowledge...
That you are my son
Knock knock knock with the knowledge...
That you are my son
Knock knock knock with the knowledge...
That you are my son

Knock knock knock with the knowledge...
That you are my son
Knock knock knock with the knowledge...
That you are my son
Knock knock knock with the knowledge...
That you are my son
Knock knock knock with the knowledge...
That you are my son
Knock knock knock with the knowledge...
That you are my son
Knock knock knock with the knowledge...
That you are my son

And there's two voices in my head at least they always agree
And poetry don't mind if you're pretty or you're ugly
And following the signs won't get you to the honey
So comb your hair back if you're good at making money