Petite League Little Fourth Of July
I call you Little Fourth of July
A broken cloudy day still lights up the sky
I bled out of the tiger's mouth
When I was 17, when I was 17
I love you like a wasp loves honey
Sell my soul for some of that Young Money
I love you like an upstate winter
Makes my word go from sweet to bitter
I've seen the world spin
I've seen the suburban sin
I wrote about growing pains through a Sparkling youth
When I was 17, when I was 17
I love you like a wasp loves honey
Sell my soul for some of that Young Money
I love you like an upstate winter
Makes my word go from sweet to bitter
