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french (feat. hodgy beats) - tyler, the creator lyrics

[verse 1: tyler, the creator]
got all the black b*tches mad cause my main b*tch vanilla
she tryna get her groove back like stella, grab the umbrella
when it comes to your perception of my sh*t i’m helen keller
when it comes to the perfection of my sh*t i know you smell the
r*ct*m. i’m like a chromosome i always x them
like wolverine steps in attacking a deadly weapon
i’m opening a church to sell coke and led zeppelin
and f*ck mary in her ass.. (haha) yo
i’m f*cking goldilocks up in the forest
in the three bear house eating their motherf*cking porridge
i tell her it’s my house, give her a tour
in my bas*m*nt, and keep that b*tch locked up in my storage
rape her and record it, then edit it with more sh*t
octop*ssy special effect, the wet b*tches be banging
and please, never disrespect my set with cannons
hanging from my neck like it’s a motherf*cking circus

[chorus: tyler, the creator & hodgy; duo]
you little n*ggas better, check my french (my french)
uh, you getting money better, check my french (my french)
uh, what time is it, huh? check my french (my french)
if you cop my sh*t you better, check my french, motherf*cker
i make it move, check my french (my french)
i speak english but check my french (my french)
your hoe be on my p*n*s she check my french
[verse 2: tyler, the creator & hodgy]
(b*tch!)
i guess i left my dignity up in the cupboard
’cause every girl i’m digging
when i’m digging in her p*ssy, i’m never using a rubber
but f*ck it, i guess i gotta stretch it out like it was flubber
and leave it drippin’ green and red like devil cheese b*gg*rs
chewin’ on cum like bubble gum from hubba
this b*tch knew d*ck like bubba knew shrimp (hahahahaha), yeah

yo, i’m seventeen, already sniffin’ blow
i tell my friends its asthma every time i start to itch my throat
i got a new show for mtv, “pimp my boat”
’cause some b*tch said my s*m*n was dirty, that’s silly hoe
the most that they can do is find me, i’m hiding
somewhere where chris stokes can’t find me
oh no, mr. stokes, i don’t like misters, no
don’t tell r. kelly where my little sister go

[chorus: tyler, the creator & hodgy; duo]
you little n*ggas better, check my french (my french)
you getting money better, check my french (my french)
uh, what time is it, huh? check my french (my french)
if you cop my sh*t you better, check my french, motherf*cker
i make it move, check my french (my french)
i speak english but check my french (my french)
your hoe be on my p*n*s she, check my french (b*tch!)
[verse 3: hodgy]
yo, you little n*ggas better check my french
i got allstars and you can check my bench
left brain, super three, creator ace, puttin’ expressions in the music and create the face
of the picture, punchline figured out, ah, i get ya
no you don’t n*gga, so won’t you go figure
you seem confused anyway, pressured enough?
you the type of dude to choke when the pressure is up
the pressure is to pump and pressure is us
b*tches havin’ eargasms and the pleasure is us
n*ggas wanna be of and write letters to us
competition’s competition, yo, you better than us?
digest what i’m saying? i don’t think so
we sick sh*t, throw it up down in the sink, yo
the odd n*ggas are beginning to spill these pink hoes
we think sorta odd, so we think so

[verse 4: tyler, the creator]
crusin’ in my go*kart at walmart sellin’ cupcakes
go ahead admit it f*ggot this sh*t is tighter than b*ttrape
that involved, ballpark franks and silver duct tape
p*rnos and hormones and boxes of digiornos
you h0m*s, is loco you prolly drinking cuervo
with some vatos with the door closed, watchin’ zorro, you h0m*s

[outro: tyler, the creator & dr. tc]
o*f
yes
so, are you dating anyone right now? you know, or*
no, i’m.. i’m just playing the field right now
ah, so, i’m guessing she’s white since, she’s “vanilla” (hehe)

- tyler the creator lyrics

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