TYLER THE CREATOR - Slater Escape-ism lyrics
rate meMe and slater just hit a curb
Bunny hops only god was listening to nerds
Made a couple thousand turns, spitting whip and verbs
Now I kick it in the burbs, me I’m from the slums
Niggas who push a ton, tenem drum,
With foul flow dirty now if I kiss and bum
Mama didn’t made her one, a woody son
With no respect for women, so show me your titties hon
You’re 18, me, I’m 20 something
Ok I’m 20, but I’m soon to be 21
I wail out at shows, break shit it should be fun
Venues are like pussy to me, shit it come
I’ma wax out like the chopstick in my back
Half of my black lips, then dip to your...
Be come back with a stack of cheese
Stack of cheese for these rats,
The lack of chese, new prime shit
Got me filling flad and a bag of bees
Fuck critics, shit, how’s your knees?
Yell on my dick more than my index
While I take a pee
I came aparella, touch a bag of weed
Shit was doper than, whitney houston’s niece
Golf white, as a team to be aid
Getting tyof indeed, you was missing sweat shirt like
Where’s the ...sweave, ok, never mind we found them, yeah
Me and slater just hit a curb
Bunny hops only god was listening to nerds
Made a couple thousand turns, spitting whip and verbs
Now I kick it in the burbs,
Guess I went checks started cashing and might stop rapping
I start asking where my fuckin passion is
Prolly where that fagot went
Hoop, tyler talking, father problems, shock shitty spit to popping topics
Some of gossip collar
Damn, I ain’t ask for this, I did it out of boredom
Thought that roach was cool, he died and pushed me in the stardom
Nowadays it’s pj’s, sippin like chain
Ship’s ahoy, boy, listening to cowboy
Hey boy, lend the mail, burn the state defense boy
Ous was ous I enjoy, boy
Y’all niggas play as the tops toy
Have a good day as I annoy, oi
Me and slater just hit a curb
Bunny hops only god was listening to nerds
Made a couple thousand turns, spitting whip and verbs
Now I kick it in the burbs,
Candles with panorama, fuse,
My shoes seen more vans than mexicans and crackers in alabama
Go to the lf, this old f, I open up the stove so I don’t stress
But nigga I, what, marcy gard is, jazz punk shit
Playing chorus making up shit, pardon my dolly partons
And I keep shardons, hoodies with rectangles and different colors
Niggas think I started kindergarten
My bitch is on my handle bars
I just wanna ride my bike, slater, slater, slater
My bitch is on my handle bars
Hair blowing in the wind
Her freckles look like candy bars
Hair blowing in the wind
My bitch is on my handle bars
I just wanna ride my bike, slater, slater, slater
My bitch is on my handle bars
Hair blowing in the wind
Her freckles look like candy bars
My cool summer never ends
My bitch is on my handle bars, bars, bars
Slater, slater, slater, slater.
