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Tyler, The Creator

Genres: Hip-Hop

Hodgy Beats-lamented Lyrics - Tyler, The Creator

[Intro] 

Broke dick, I'm looking for a drug lord 

Okay, welcome to my 12 bar (One, um.) 

The beat, wears it like a kevlar 

As I smoke my tree, medlar, South African 

Coughing 'til there's pains in my fucking abdomen 

I spit negative just like a halogen 

My breeze more of a fucking masculine 

The rascals win, 

killing 'em all with a javelin 

Snakes, I'm just rattling, 

suit taylor never taddling 

You niggas a bunch of squares, Madison 

As far as real niggas, bitch nigga my battle's sick 

On top of being talented, bitch I'm fucking passionate 

I'm a golden curse, call me treacherous, treasure chest 

I'll build on to the beat like tetris 

Remember me? Forgetfulness, I am your correctionist 

I stitched Odd and Future together like a leather vest 

You fucking sweater neck, feather peck, Rosetta checks 

I put together decks and push for beef, if head for less 

I'm headed out to Sydney Australia with Tim Donnelly 

He gets caught up at security, the TSA don't follow me 

Tea parties are the shit, forty mags by the scones 

I'm fighting for gun rights to shoot a nigga in his dome 

Click your fucking heels, there's no place like home 

Cock back and blast off written on the tombstone, ain't that a bitch 

[Interlude] 

That wasn't a 12 bar (Tyler, what's up, nigga?) 

I can't count (What's wrong?) 

[Verse 2: Tyler] 

Let's see, what's wrong with me? 

Might be my fucking Tourette, see? 

I need a vacation cause all this shit got me stressing 

So after the showers with Sandusky 

Me and Sean Kingston went and rented a couple jet skis 

Lionel rolled the blunts up, 

so meanwhile me and Lucas getting fucked up 

You can smell us coming like a faggot when he hicks up 

Listening to Common's last album to get pumped up 

To finally ask 

*censored* 

when I can get my dick sucked 

You know Casey Anthony, was handling 

Dropping her kids off so she could come out and dance with me 

Wine in the pantry, wrestling on my trampoline 

Learned some new chords while you uncreative were sampling 

I'm Wolf, I.spit flow retardedly 

As retarded as the sound of deaf people arguing 

You hold the future of the kid you daughter's gargling 

Me, I have the Odd Future mothafuckin' sargeaning 

(Tyler calm the fuck down) No, I'm the fuck now 

My poppa didn't give one, that's why I'm like this now 

I'm still down to cut throat and if another fan asks 

For a photo while I'm snacking on my pizza lunchable 

I'm 'a fucking snap like Berman when he acts right 

Then have a mental breakdown and proceed to use a crack pipe 

OF will be done for 

niggas will be dumb poor 

Don't believe me, ok be right back, I'm headed to the gun store 

M-16's and them 16's 

came out of nowhere 

Like your kid's wet dream, 

what you mean old news 

Oh you really need us to fucking show you 

That we're harder than finding a fucking snickers bar in whole foods 

In a black hoodie, nose bruised and a gold tooth 

Hoping the fuckin' security guard doesn't hold you in custody 

But luckily had a couple of guns with me 

Like gay step mom, none of you mothafuckas can fuck with me 

Vete a la casa de tu mama 

No mas andan aqui con sus babosadas, que Odd Future ni que Odd Future 

Yo no se que es eso, idiotas, que chingados es Odd Future 

Golf Wang, Golf Tyler? A mi me vale madre 

Ja. y mira esa ropa, parecen una bola de payasos mugrosos! Por favor! 

 

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