[Chorus: Tyler, The Creator]
Me and Slater just hit a curb
Bunnyhop, zoning out, listening to N.E.R.D. (Star Trak)
Made a couple thousand turds spitting written verbs
Shit (What?), now I kick it in the 'burbs
[Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator]
Me? I'm from the slums, niggas who push a ton
Ton of drums, with foul flow, dirty mouth, like kissing bums
Mama done made her one, um, a witty son
With no respect for women, so show me your titties, hun (What?)
You eighteen? Me? I'm twenty-somethin'
Okay, I'm twenty, but I'm soon to be twenty-one
I wild out at shows, break shit, it should be fun
Venues are like pussy with me, "Should he come?"
I'ma wax that like the chapstick in my backpack for my black lips
Then dip to Europe and come back with a stack of cheese
A stack of cheese for these rats, um, that mac and cheese
New 'Preme shit got me feeling flyer than a bag of bees
Fuck critics ("How's your dick?") Shit, how's your knees?
Y'all on my dick more than my index when I take a pee (Damn)
I came up with ''Rella'', ain't touch a bag of weed (Word?)
Shit was doper than Whitney Houston's needs
Golf Wang, that's the team to be, ayy
Getting T.U., O.F., indeed
We was missing Sweatshirt, like "Where's the hooded sleeve?"
Okay, never mind, we found him, yeah
Me and Slater just hit a curb
Bunnyhop, zoning out, listening to N.E.R.D. (Star Trak)
Made a couple thousand turds spitting written verbs
Shit (What?), now I kick it in the 'burbs
[Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator]
Me? I'm from the slums, niggas who push a ton
Ton of drums, with foul flow, dirty mouth, like kissing bums
Mama done made her one, um, a witty son
With no respect for women, so show me your titties, hun (What?)
You eighteen? Me? I'm twenty-somethin'
Okay, I'm twenty, but I'm soon to be twenty-one
I wild out at shows, break shit, it should be fun
Venues are like pussy with me, "Should he come?"
I'ma wax that like the chapstick in my backpack for my black lips
Then dip to Europe and come back with a stack of cheese
A stack of cheese for these rats, um, that mac and cheese
New 'Preme shit got me feeling flyer than a bag of bees
Fuck critics ("How's your dick?") Shit, how's your knees?
Y'all on my dick more than my index when I take a pee (Damn)
I came up with ''Rella'', ain't touch a bag of weed (Word?)
Shit was doper than Whitney Houston's needs
Golf Wang, that's the team to be, ayy
Getting T.U., O.F., indeed
We was missing Sweatshirt, like "Where's the hooded sleeve?"
Okay, never mind, we found him, yeah
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