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Tyler, The Creator
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1
[Verse 1: Earl]
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Uh, was always smartmouthed and quick-witted
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But somethin' was always missin' like six digits
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Lucky seven probably poppa
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Little nigga so they picked on him, hassled him
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Things changed when I hassled back, so
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David hit the pavement with this grapple rap
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Snapple fact: you rather wack
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While I am poppin' like a snappin' crack
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So high you could see like Tallahass, the opposite of cataracts
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Matter fact I am Farmer John milkin' cattle tracks
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Action packed nipple squeezin', boy colder than sniffle season
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Simple genius, go hard and spit bits of semen
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So when the street is split, don't act surprised, agree with it
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The Gang of Wolves that creeps in crypts
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As deep as Dawson's Creek and shit
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I pray they got gills either that or grab some floaties
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I know I got skills, why you think I'm posted boastin'
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Braggin' tell these faggots to stop naggin'
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Cause them Wolf Gang niggas threw them off the bandwagon like
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[Verse 2: Tyler]
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Uh, was always fucked up as shit with it
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But I didn't cross the line until the bridge hit it, troll
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I got you niggas nervous like virgins flirtin' with Uncle Mervin
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Fuckin' y'all with no lubricant, go grab the detergent
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I preach to demons at your church, now I'm the newest sermon
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Wearin' nothin' but they fuckin' blast with the matchin' turban
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I drive through white suburbans in the black Suburban swervin'
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Hittin' curbs and blastin' Erick Sermon drunk off English Bourbon
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I'm stealin' purses rapin' nurses I'm a crooked surgeon
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And treat the beat like sanitized nazi pussies, I'm a German
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I'm squirtin' while I'm masturbatin' and regurgitatin'
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From eatin' Miley Cyrus salad pussy platter they were servin'
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My only purpose is to jerk it cause it has a curve
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So bitches hate to do me like it's convict community service
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This my Zombie Circus, you better get a fuckin' ticket
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Odd Future Wolf Gang like they're filmin' Twilight in this bitch
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[Verse 3: Earl]
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I'm back on my sixty six sick shit
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Flowin' like the blood out the competition's slit wrists
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She lick it up, Dracula, then spit it back, back at ya
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She mad as fuck, stuck in the back of a black Acura
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Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her
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Hello Heather yellow feathers now you ain't laughin', huh
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[Verse 4: Tyler]
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Bitch you're barely breathin' leavin' on the back of the boat
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While I fill you up with semen from the Wolf Gang team and
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Flowin' like the creampie inside of your daughter
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Oughta eat the bitch with salt and wash it down with a gallon of water
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I grab the saw and sawed of her arm and auctioned it
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And dip her teeth in gold molds and flossed the shit
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Fuckin' awesome spittin' box of trees, got you niggas
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Shakin' like it's Parkinsons from the clitoris of Kelly Clarkson's dick
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Ironin' you niggas now it's time to starch the shit
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Drown your bitch in a tub of cum and throw a shark in it
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Find a random abandoned garage and go to park in it
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Find Earl laying on the burgundy carpet, pull my knife out, sharpen it
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Stab him, put a arch on it, pour unleaded gas on him
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Get the Zippo and spark the shit
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Hop back in the van and then depart the bitch
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Killed him on his own track, the faggot shouldn't have started it
Earl Sweatshirt - WHOA
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