kill a hipster

• bir (bkz: watsky) parçası. parçada watsky chinaka hodge ile düet yapmaktadır. parçanın eğlenceli bir klibi ve acı ama gerçek sözleri vardır. ayrıca şarkı sözlerindeki yaklaşım (bkz: south park)'ın (bkz: die hippie, die) bölümünden esinlenilmiş gibidir.
  
  [hook: george watsky]
  rent’s up (that shit’s no good)
  starbucks where the skate rink stood
  ıt’s a fixture (it does no good)
  (ı know) kill a hipster (save your hood!)
  wrote congress (it did no good)
  read scripture (it did no good)
  you could take a picture or knock on wood
  (fuck that) kill a hipster (save your hood!)
  
  [verse 1: george watsky]
  ı’m getting hummus, hummus
  ı’m getting hummus, hummus
  ı’m at the park playing dodgeball
  drinking san pellegrino like it’s cristal
  no school, alcohol
  living no rules—calvinball
  you wanna brawl? ho please
  ı sprinkle you with some goat cheese
  ı get it straight from the fuckin’ farm
  ı even put goat cheese in my lucky charms
  ı’m at the taco truck looking like a mack
  ı roll my rs hard like ı’m busting off a gat
  ıt’s like, “hola mama, ı’m your papa”
  may ı please have dos horrrrrrrrrchatas?
  ı’m like brap brap brap!
  when ı smack your ass fast with my backpack strap
  
  [hook]
  
  [verse 2: chinaka]
  pencil to the neck, razor to your innertube
  bullet to your disrespect, ı hate your hipster attitude
  your whole chassez, acting like you own us with your whole passé
  dance around the issue patna, no plié
  but you’ll get broke for that french shit, so cassé
  and you can put that in your lit mag and your tumblr blog
  eat it with the bacon off your farm fresh hog
  sip it like kombucha, hope your last meal suit ya
  do-gooder types, commuters on bikes
  brooding 20-somethings with the coolest of “likes”
  you be loving on my city like johns
  rubbing on her titties leaving money in palms
  our rumbling guts can only hunger so much
  plus we redundantly blunted in lieu of giving a fuck
  we’ll cut you for the scratch
  leave in on a tee
  and if we’ve done it properly you’re copping it from treat, ‘cause
  
  [hook]
  
  [verse 3]
  look in the mirror and it’s clear ı’ve become one of ‘em
  kill me please if ı’m one of ‘em
  ı walk the block like ı’m hot shit
  ı gentrified the corner store just buying hot chips
  but now ı’m caught red-handed
  with this land so make me a dead bandit
  and if you see me sipping at an open keg
  put me down like a horse with a broken leg
  
  [hook]