Dr. Whoever

[Intro: Rickey Thompson]
Sad on your muthafuckin b-day? Bitch, what the fuck?! Don’t you realize you poppin’? Every time you walk in the room you break necks. Necks?! But you tellin’ me you sad on your muthafuckin’ b-day
Yeah
Yeah

[Verse 1: Aminé]
Yeah
I sit here and tell you my problems, that’s how this work, right?
I’m s’posed to be open and honest, but I got time, right?
My niggas having sessions and I’m doin’ sessions
Can’t man up if masculinity your only weapon

Man, I’ve thought about suicide a hundred times
But, I’d hate to disappoint and see my momma cry
Birthdays these days be the worst days
‘Cause I know I’m gettin’ older and not happier

Me and my father love each other but we barely show it
He hates that I left home and the lawn is now his to mow it
He look at my generation and think that fashion’s over
I kill my sister if she ever model Fashion Nova (true)

I’m always on a flight, or I’m in a hurry (yeah)
I miss when losin’ my virginity was my only worry (yeah)
Back when puttin’ on a condom had me really scary (scare)
And milkshakes were the only time we’d eat a cherry

I think learnin’ how to eat pussy from someone who eat pussy
Is better than learnin’ from someone who doesn’t
And that’s word to my ex and that’s word to my tongue (yeah)
And that’s word to the woman who had my heart beatin’ drums
(drums, drums)

Yeah, love is what I cherished and Miss Parrish (yeah)
Flew all the way to Paris and we made out on my terrace (yeah)
I kept it on the low low, cause I was in love (love)
And the shade I had in my room was already enough (’nuff)

I’m goin’ on some dates and I’m makin’ some plans
But it’s hard to find some love if the girl is a fan (fan)
And after we fuck, she want a picture with me
She got me feeling like Paper Boi, but I cry when she leaves, yeah

[Chorus: Aminé]
These intros ain’t meant to be bangers
They meant for you and me so we’ll never end up as strangers
Will Ferrell’s ass can’t even handle this weather
Tune in your speakers and please be my Dr. Whoever

I said, I said, these intros ain’t meant to be bangers
They meant for you and me so we’ll never end up as strangers
Will Ferrell’s ass can’t even handle this weather
Tune in your speakers and please be my Dr. Whoever

[Interlude]
Yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh, woo
Yes sir, yeah, look

[Verse 2: Aminé]
Boy, you lookin’ big mad
When you see a young brotha up in first class (yee!)
And you damn right my ego like Lavar Ball (yuh)
They hate to see a black man who can’t get blackballed (skrr!)

I said my paper long (yuh), my paper long (yuh)
You damn right, bitch (bitch), my paper long
It’s that yellow, mellow, fellow, yeah, that Yellowstone (hey!)
Play the cello for the fellows, fake as silicone (true!)

I went from plaque in my teeth to havin’ plaques on the wall
Gold album, with platinum records who woulda thought (uh-huh!)
Young nigga, like Jigga, tryna make me a boss
I’ll take my momma to Louis and take your girl to the Ross, nigga (?)

Back in the muthafuckin’ building (yuh)
Your boo thing want my children (yuh), my net worth gon’ be a billion (bih!)
Shorty gimme head like ceiling (true!), dick disappear, chameleon (true!)
And like I’m muthafuckin’ rollin’ (yee!), my whip bought, it’s not stolen (brrr!)

[Chorus: Aminé]
These intros ain’t meant to be bangers
They meant for you and me so we’ll never end up as strangers
Will Ferrell’s ass can’t even handle this weather
Tune in your speakers and please be my Dr. Whoever, yeah

[Verse 3: Aminé]
Hey doc, do I tell em how I actually feel?
Or do I see a therapist and numb the pain with the pills
They swear niggas play tough won’t even smile in mirrors
And we learn to fuck hoes off trial and error

Friday nights, where them broke niggas ball out
And Amine be the name that your girlfriend gon’ call out
To all my niggas with some melanin, let your feelings settle in
If you feelin’ worthless you should probably go and tell a friend (tell it)

Yeah, but, I should take that advice
This year has been crazy, what the fuck is my life? (what)
My best friend got married, you can bet that I cried
I met Spike and Brad Pitt, no malls I’m Saks Fifth, nigga

[Outro: Rickey Thompson]
Get your shit together and turn the fuck up!