Seven Akkorde von
Tyler
Tyler
The Creator
The Creator

N/A42 Aufrufe
Tonart: Bb minor
Verse 1
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I'd tell him to eat a dick quicker
than Mexicans sprint over borders
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I give a fuck like a quarter with twenty cent
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At Hamptons with Fred Hampton relaxing
at Happy Camper
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It's the fucking financial aid at Hamptons wasn't relaxing,
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I'm taxing
"Fuck 'em all!" What I'm chanting,
don't complain I'm just ranting
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Fuck ranking, I'm the best,
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I'm the champion's chariot
I'm a liar like Carrey in Liar, Liar
I'm dirtier than the sheets in the Marriott,
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cable guy like Larry
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Peter Pan in my youth, fucking fairies
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I'm using my tooth bait to get
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that bitches' teeth paste
Fuck it, odd future some Nazis,
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black Nazis don't copy
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We perfect, you sloppy,
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hotter than Saki Takei
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Fuck a label on my jacket,
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screw you like a ratchet
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Screw you like a black teen on Judge
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Hatchett (bitch)
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Hang with thrashers and jackers
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Drug dealers and crackers,
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ap students and slackers
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I'm backwards like
Jermaine Dupri in '93
Escaping from concentration camps with
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a fucking girl board and a ramp
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That I ordered from CCS with some diamonds
that's VVS
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Like I went to Sierra Leone in a homecoming dress,
bitch (yeah)
With some matching pink panties,
lipstick from my granny
Sup on my hat like that
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motherfucker friendly
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White, red- headed bitch
reminded me of Annie
She dino like my state of mind,
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so yeah she understand me (yup)
Fuck You Bunch is here,
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never disrespect my family
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That's for my little brother, sister,
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cousin and my auntie
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Wasted fucking youth? All
you old niggas antiques
We go skate,
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rape sluts and eat donuts from Randy
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Bitches like Tia Landry watching
Billy and Mandy
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Motherfuckers wanna be
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odd but you can't be
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Sit the fuck down all you old niggas stand me,
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faggot (ay)
I guess I got to be a fucking hand- me- down rapper
Verse 2
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From
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Los Angee area anytime
I'm fucking landing
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Fuck 2DopeBoyz and NahRight, shout
out to hype track
Them motherfuckers could
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never get rid of me
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Guess I gotta do a fucking
song with Dom Kennedy
Get these fucking hip hop
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bloggers to start feeling me
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Because I'm seventeen,
compose my own beats
Lyrically I'm dope enough to ass-
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fuck the dude who made nicotine
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Maybe I should buy some hundreds,
wear some fucking skinny jeans
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And follow in your footsteps like
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a motherfucking millipede
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Centipede, make songs about
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Gucci and ciggaweed
Jerk with my freshmen like it's
some motherfucking little league
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No, I'm not no fucking hipster, mister
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No, I'm not no fucking Kid Cudi, all my
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fucking fans love me
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Em
Em
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Collaboration hits for fans screaming fuck buddies,
yo, yo (OF)
Verse 3
I'm driving in a stolen truck and I'm probably fucking drunk
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Wasted as fuck, can't walk it out,
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DJ Unk (Unk)
My nose is filled with coke and
my license is revoked
(Shut the fuck up)
Who the fuck told me not to
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spoke? (Me)
Fuck everybody here,
everybody vanished, I'm managed
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Hop off my dick and make
a fucking sandwich
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Everybody listening can
suck my dick in Spanish
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Fuck you (shit), faggot
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Em
Em
(fuckingbastard)
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Yeah, um,
Verse 4
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Em
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as you can probably
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tell from listening to this record
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I was, I was probably angry,
probably on my period
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G
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Eb
Eb
But um, I didn't mean to offend anyone,
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alright, I'm lying, OF
Outro 1
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