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Odd Future
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1
[Intro: Taco]
2
Yo, shout out to everybody that worked on the album
3
You feel me, son? Yo, shouts out to Ty Dollas
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Shouts out to Hodgy Daddies, shouts out to Left Brizzle
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Shouts out to Domyon, shouts out to Frankie Ocean
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Shouts out to Syd the Dude, shouts out to L-Boy Awk
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[Verse 1: Tyler the Creator]
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Big eared bandit is tossing all his manners
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In a bag and wrapping them in seran wrap bandages
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Tossing them in baskets with the rest of those sandwiches
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So when he says "catch up, *gga" it looks like an accident
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Um, flowing like my pad is the maxiest
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My b*tch white and black like she's been mimicking a panda
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It's the dark skinned *gga, kissing b*tches in Canada
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Then kicking all out like Mr. Lawrence did Pamela
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Put her in the chamber all against her Will Chamberlain
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I never had a reason, *gga, I was just able
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Not a f*cking Logic contradicting d*ck head
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Flyer than an ostrich moshing in a tar pit
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Semen scented cheetah printed tee
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In that 'Preme five panel, I'll repeat it for the season
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Previous items in the present
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With the normal ass past like I cheated on my team
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Man (tried to get that *gga, but, Golf Wang)
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[Verse 2: Hodgy Beats]
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To have some type of knowledge that is one perception
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But knowing you own your opponent is a defeating bonus
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I'm Zeus to a Kronos
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Cartilage cartridge is boneless
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Smiles of cowards in lead showers
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Dead spouses in red blouses
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Children who fled houses on Mustang horses an went jousting
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I'm on my Robin Hood sh*t
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Robbin' in the hood: whips, drugs, jewels, and your pet
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I'm stealing your rings, coke diamonds and your Vet
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Soldiers lace the f*ckin' boot
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And salute like the troop when they shoot you gon' poop
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It's Killhodgy, *gga, stay the f*ck off my stoop
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And out my Kool aid, juice
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[Verse 3: Left Brain]
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Hodgy got the juice, I got the gin
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Jasper got the Henny, my *gga we get it in
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Wolf Gang party at the hotel
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I call a ho, you call a ho, and all the hoes tell
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You know Left Brain need a freak
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I need a b*tch to go down like a Nitty beat
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Yup, uh, and her ass fat
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Don't be surprised if I ask where the hash at
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N*gga I'm tryin' to smoke, b*tch get higher
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Domo where that Flocka Flame? Talkin' 'bout a lighter
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Still bang salute me or just shoot me
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Cause if you don't salute me then my team will do the shooting
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Yea my *gga Ace will pull the black jack
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The king Mike G is in the cut with the black mac
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Livin' like the Mafia, b*tch, don't get to slacking up
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And if these haters actin' up, throw 'em in the aqueduct
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Free my *gga Earl, yo, I don't really ask for much
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But two bad b*tches in front of me cunnilingus
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[Verse 4: Mike G]
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What the f*ck is caution?
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Often I Leave 'Em Flossin In KAWS X's Next To Coffins
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Lost in translation, the dreams you chase
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Got you diving for the plates like you stealin' home base
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That's great - I'm home alone dreamin' of two on ones
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With Rihanna and Christina Milian, bring it on
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And Travis is in the closet organizing and hangin' the tramp
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Three lettermans that Ace has been makin' him
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No strays while we catchin' matinees, huh?
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I'm gettin' blazed thinking 'bout those days
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I had the top off the GT3 like toupees
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One finger in the air, all's fair when crime pays
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My grand scheme of things
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Is to be attached to the game like b*tches to their wedding rings
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And you don't even need to look
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Cause we gleam obscene in the light
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Ride slow to my yellow diamond shining like the Batman logo over Gotham
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Rock LA to Harlem
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If you say "get 'em Mike G" then I got 'em
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One man squadron, *gga I'm a problem
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From Briggs I got bars and plans to
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Pimp these Polish b*tches into pop stars
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Humanity kills, we all suffer from insanity still
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And if I said it then it is or it's gonna be real
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OF 'til I OD and I probably will, uh
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[Verse 5: Domo Genesis]
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It's still Mr. Smoke-a-lot-of-pot
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Get your baby mommy popped with my other snobby bop
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Do I love her, prolly not
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Know your sh*t is not as hot as anything I f*ckin' drop
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B*tch I'm in the zone, stand alone, like Macaulay Cock
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I've been runnin' blocks since a snotty tot
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Big wheel was a big deal with the water Glock
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Now I'm all grown, sing songs just to give 'em watts
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Fire what I talk, but still cooler than the otter pop
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Op Dom neck sh*t in your wish list
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Mad sick sh*t, mad d*ck for your b*tches
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On some slick sh*t, your mistress on my hit list
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And I'm lifted 'til I'm stiff out of this b*tch
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Odd in your motherf*ckin' area
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Blood clots give me five feet 'fore I bury ya
101
Suicide flow, let the big wave carry ya
102
Tyler got the mask like he held Jim Carey up
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And f*ck your team, ho *gga wassup
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Wolf Gang so you know we not givin' no f*cks
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You know me dog, I'ma chill in the cut so I can
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Cut it short, break it down, couple pounds, roll it up
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(Get me a Persian rug where the center looks like Galaga)
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[Verse 6: Frank Ocean]
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Rent a super car for a day
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Drive around with your friends, smoke a gram of that haze
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Bro, easy on the ounce, that's a lot for a day
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But just enough for a week, my *gga what can I say
113
I'm hi and I'm bye, wait I mean I'm straight
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I'ma get you this wine, the runner just brought the grapes
115
My brother give it some time, Morris, and Day
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'Course you know the vibe's as fly as the rhymes
117
On the song, cut and you could sample the feel
118
Headphone bleed, make this sh*t sound real
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Used to work the grill, fatburger and fries
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Then I made a mil and them psychics was liars
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Now, how many f*ckin' crystal balls can I buy and own
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Humble old me had to flex for the fogs
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Down in Muscle Beach pumpin' iron and bone
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Bumpin' oldies off my cellular phone
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Yea, bumpin' oldies off my cellular phone
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Bumpin' oldies off my cellular phone
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[Verse 7: Jasper Dolphin]
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Goddammit, this rapping is stupid and it's hard
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Gotta do it over and over and over again but here I go
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Hey it's Jasper, not even a rapper
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Only on this beat to make my racks grow faster
132
Got a TV show, so I guess I'm an actor
133
Pot head, half baked, lookin' like Chappelle
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Rollin' up a blunt with that fire from hell
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Still ignorant, still hit a b*tch
136
Wolf Gang, *gga, so I still don't give a sh*t
137
Catch me in the back with Miley on my lap
138
Bong rips as I feel on that little b*tch cat
139
Hah, *gga came through with a 9 bar real quick
140
Just for the b*tches, little bit of money in my pocket
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F*ck it, Wolf Gang
142
[Verse 8: Earl Sweatshirt]
143
Yeah, f*ck that
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Look, the contrast is a pair of lips
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Swallowin' syrup and settin' fires to sheriffs whip
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F*ckin' all American terrorist
147
Crushin' rapper larynx to feed 'em a f*ckin' carrot stick
148
And me? I just spent a year Ferrisin'
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And lost a little sanity to show you what hysterics is
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Spit to the lips meet the bottom of a barrel
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So that sterile piss flow remind these *ggas where embarrassed is
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Narrow, tight line, might impair him
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Since I made it back to Fahrenheit, grimey get dinero type
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Pharaoh f*ckin' pillow tear wearin' pack of parasite
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Threw his own youth off the roof after paradise
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Ladidadi back in here to f*ck the party up
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Raiding fridges, tipping over vases with a tommy gun
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Never dollars, pop would make it rain hockey pucks
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60 day chips from f*ckin' awesome anonymous
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Call him bloated 'til he show them that the flow deluxe
161
Off the wall loafers, four loko, and a cobra clutch
162
Vocals bold and rough, evoke a ho' to pose his drum
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Let me hit him, hit it with a stick until the ho was numb
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Culprit of the potent punch
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Scolding hot as dunking scrotum in a Folgers cup - or Nevada
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Driving drunk inside a stolen truck
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Sh*tting like his colon bust
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Belly full of chicken and a fifth of old petroleum
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Supernova, I'm rollin' over the novices
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I'm roamin' through the forest and spittin' cold as the porridge is
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Stay gold 'til the case closed and the story end
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Post mortem porkin' this rap sh*t and record it
173
To escort it to the morgue again
174
Lord of lips, bored of this
175
Forklift the tippy top, best under 40 list
176
Stormin' the gate, who's sure in the base, scorching ladies
177
Motherf*ckers soarin', torso and face
178
Get at me with savages, have a pack of Apache
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Indian pack of *ggas who don't give a f*ck if we nasty as flatulence
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As a matter of fact, your swagger is tacky so see me you can't
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Like crunchy black cats in a taxi
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Back like lateral passing
183
With that motherf*cking gladiator manner of rapping
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As an addict I let percocets and xannies relax me
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Fall back if your paddies is Maxi
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Please
187
[Verse 9: Tyler the Creator]
188
OF, sh*t that's all I got
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From my bigger brother Frankie to my little brother Tac
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From that father figure Clancy to that skatey *gga Naks
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Shredding down 'Fax, Wolf Gang run the f*ckin' block
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Storefront, knee tat
193
Book cover is the same lettering on lettermans and cotton socks
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And grip tape... and my shoes
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Um, I was 15 when I first drew that donut
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5 years later, for our label yea we own it
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I started an empire, I ain't even old enough
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To drink a f*ckin' beer, I'm tipsy off this soda pop
199
This is for the niggers in the suburbs
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And the white kids with *gga friends who say the -word
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And the ones that got called weird, fag, b*tch, nerd
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Cause you was into jazz, kitty cats, and Steven Spielberg
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They say we ain't actin' right
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Always try to turn our f*ckin' color into black and white
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But they'll never change 'em, never understand 'em
206
Radical's my anthem, turn my f*ckin' amps up
207
So instead of critiquing and b*tching, being mad as f*ck
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Just admit, not only are we talented, we're rad as f*ck
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B*tches
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[Outro]
211
OFM, bangin' on your FM
212
Gnaw, 2011, yea
213
Golf Wang
Tyler The Creator - She (feat. Frank Oce...
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