Showing posts with label tyler the creator. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tyler the creator. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
radicals
random disclaimer. hey don't do anything that I say in this song, okay? it's fuckin fiction. if anything happens, don't fuckin blame me...white america. fuck bill o'reilly. 4..3..2..1... what the fuck I look like sayin I'm sorry to a bunch of fuckin fags that can't potentially harm me? I ain't never gonna bow down to your expectations. by the way, I got sixty fuckin wolves that'll guard me. they skate hard brash black hoodies, try somethin', make sure your fuckin feelings end up in a glad bag. fuc all your opinions, i'm tie 'em up in a shoestring and fuck the fat lady, it's over when all the kids sing. kill people, burn shit, fuck school. i'm fuckin radical nigga, left, right, left, right. fuck cops, i'm a fuckin rock star. rebel and defiance makes my muthafuckin' cock hard. fuck pigs, fuck guards, they all so fuckin retarded. fuck school, i'mma fuck up, fuck Harvard. I ain't got no fuckin money, hey mom. I ain't got no muthafuckin daddy, he ain't teach me shit. child support ain't come that faggot still ain't bought me anything. fuck the fat lady, it's over when all the kids sing. kill people, burn shit, fuck school. I'm fuckin radical, nigga, left, right, left, right. i'm not saying to go out and do some stupid shit, commit crimes. what i'm trying to tell you is, do what the fuck you want. stand for what the fuck you believe in and don't let nobody tell you can't do what the fuck you want. i'm a fucking unicorn, and fuck anybody who say I'm not. wolf gang. fuck your traditions, fuck your positions. fuck your religion, fuck your decisions. see they're not mind so you gotta let em go. we can be ourselves, but you gotta let us know.
Labels:
lyrics
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tyler the creator
domo 23
sick to my motherfucking tummy, bitch must think I'm a motherfucking dummy because I dress bummy, bitch think I'm broke. Bitch I ate one roach and I made a lot of money. popping since bastard, clancy's my slave master. thanks to them crackers my pockets are fatter than excess shit that's weighing on jasper. I've never popped a bottle but I've fucked a couple models in Europe. yup, and a couple of them swallowed. meet me half way, bitch I'm going all in and I never pull back, shout out to my nigga taco. fuck that, golf wang. so a couple fags threw a little hisfit. came to pitchfork with a couple jada pinkett signs and said I was a racist homophobic. so I grabbed lucas and filmed us kissing, feelings getting caught, it's off, I'm pissing. you think I give a fuck? I ain't even stick my dick in yet. no homo, too soon. and while y'all are rolling doobies I be in my bedroom scoring movies. still excited like a fucking newbie. suck my dick, motherfucker, sue me. mom got a new whip so she could scoop me. a year ago I ain't have no hoopty. four story home, gotta climb eight set of stairs just to see where my fucking roof be. fuck that golf wang. wait a goddamn second. i'm tripping balls, david beckham. would fall cause shits going down just like rodney king swimming lessons. now me and justin smoke sherm and been talking about freeing perms and purchasing weapons, naming them and aim 'em in one direction...wait a minute...it sounds like midgets in a goddamn speaker, anytime you play this shit loud. but that's just me trying to get milk now, and the grunts of the goddamn cow. hit me on my beeper while captain hook suck my peter. pan camera, repeat procedure, and when the beat drop have a goddamn seizure. fuck that, golf wang.
Labels:
lyrics
,
tyler the creator
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