TYLER THE CREATOR - Seven lyrics

rate me

[Verse 1:]

I'd tell him to eat a dick quicker than Mexicans sprint over borders

I give a fuck like a quarter between the sink

At Hamptons with Fred Hampton relaxin' at Happy Camper

It's the fuckin' financial aid at Hamptons wasn't relaxin', I'm taxin'

"Fuck 'em all! " I'm chantin', don't complain I'm just rantin'

Fuck ranking, I'm the best, I'm the champion's chariot

I'm a liar like Carrey in "Liar, Liar"

I'm dirtier than the sheets in the Marriott, Cable guy like Larry

Peter Pan in my youth, fucking fairies

I'm using my tooth bait to get that bitches teeth paste

Fuck it, Odd Future some nazis, black nazis don't copy

We perfect, you sloppy, huddled and slightly tacky

Fuck a label on my jacket, screw you like a ratchet

Screw you like a black teen on Judge Hatchett

[?] and jaguars, drug dealers and crackers

Able students and slackers

I'm Bad was like Jermaine Dupri in '93

Escaping from concentration camps with a fucking girl born in a ramp

That I ordered from CCS with some diamonds that's VVS

Like I went to Sierra Leone in a homecoming dress

With some matching pink panties, lipstick from my granny

Sup on my hat like that motherfucker Frannie

White, red-headed bitch reminded me of Annie

She dyno like my state of mind, so yeah she understand me

Fuck you bunches here, never disrespect my family

That's for my little brother, sister, cousin and my auntie

Wasted fuckin' youth? All you old niggas antiques

We go skate, break sluts and eat donuts from Randy

Bitches like Tia Landry watching Billy and Mandy

Motherfuckers wanna be Odd but you can't be

Sit the fuck down all you old niggas stand me, faggot

[Verse 2:]

I guess I gotta be a fuckin' hand-me-down rapper

From Los Angee area anytime I'm fuckin' landing

Fuck 2DopeBoyz and NahRight, shout out to Hype Track

Them motherfuckers could never get rid of me

Guess I gotta do a fucking song with Dom Kennedy

Get these fuckin' hip hop bloggers to start feelin' me

Because I'm 17, compose my own beats

Lyrically I'm dope enough to ass-fuck the dude who made nicotine

Maybe I should buy some Hundreds, wear some fuckin' skinny jeans

And follow in your footsteps like a motherfuckin' millipede

Centipede, make songs about Gucci and cigaweed

Jerk with my friends like it's some motherfuckin' little league

No I ain't no fucking hipster, mister

No I'm not no fucking Kid Cudi, all my fucking fans love me

Collaboration hits for fans screaming fuck buddies, yo, yo

[Verse 3:]

I'm drivin' in a stolen truck, and I'm probably fuckin' drunk

Wasted as fuck, can't walk it out, DJ Unk

My nose is filled with coke and my license is revoked

(Shut the fuck up!) Who the fuck told me not to spoke?

Fuck everybody here, everybody vanish, I'll manage

Hop off my dick and make a fucking sandwitch

Everybody listening can suck my dick in Spanish

Fuck you, faggot (Fuckin' asshole)

[Outro:]

Yeah, ummm... as you can probably tell from listening to this record

I was... I was probably angry, probably on my period

But ummm... I didn't mean to offend anyone, alright, I'm lying, OF..... yeah i lick my brother goonch i do it for a living

Thanks to tomi_porto@hotmail.com for correcting these lyrics