slater [og] - tyler, the creator lyrics
[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 t*rds spitting written verbs
sh*t (what?), now i kick it in the ‘burbs
[verse 1: tyler, the creator]
me? i’m from the slums, n*ggas 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 sh*t, it should be fun
venues are like p*ssy 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 cheesе
a stack of cheese for these rats, um, that mac and cheesе
new ‘preme sh*t got me feeling flyer than a bag of bees
f*ck critics (“how’s your d*ck?”) sh*t, how’s your knees?
y’all on my d*ck more than my index when i take a pee (d*mn)
i came up with ”rella”, ain’t touch a bag of weed (word?)
sh*t was doper than whitney houston’s needs
golf w*ng, 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
[chorus: tyler, the creator]
me and slater just hit a curb
bunnyhop, zoning out, listening to n.e.r.d.
made a couple thousand t*rds spitting written verbs
sh*t, now i kick it in the ‘burbs
[verse 2: tyler, the creator]
guess i win, checks started cashing in
i stop rapping and start asking where my f*cking passion is
probably where that f*ggot went (who?) tyler talking father problems
shocking sh*t, he spit to popping topics in them gossip columns
i ain’t ask for this, i did it out of boredom
thought that roach was cool, he died and pushed me into stardom
now; ye’s, pjs, sipping leche
chips ahoy, boy, listening to “cowboy”, ayy!
boy, land in melbourne and skate to fitzroy, ayy!
aus’ was awes’, i enjoyed, boy
y’all n*ggas played as a tot’s toy
have a good day as i annoy, oi
[chorus: tyler, the creator]
me and slater just hit a curb
bunnyhop, zoning out, listening to n.e.r.d.
made a couple thousand t*rds spitting written verbs
sh*t, now i kick it in the ‘burbs
[verse 3: tyler, the creator]
canons with panorama views
my shoes that seen more vans than mexicanas
or crackers in alabama
g*o*to*the*l*f, this of
i opened up a store so i don’t stress
but, n*gga, i (what?), mosh in gardens
jazz punk sh*t, playing chords
making up sh*t, pardon my dolly partons
and i keep shartin’
hoodies with rectangles and different colors
n*ggers think i started kindergarten
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