slater

• (bkz: tyler the creator)
  (bkz: wolf)
  
  [hook: tyler, the creator]
  me and slater just hit a curb
  bunny hop, zoning out, listening to n.e.r.d
  made a couple thousands turds spitting written verbs
  shit, now i kick it in the 'burbs
  
  [verse 1: tyler, the creator]
  me? i'm from the slums, niggas who push a ton
  ton of drums, with foul flow dirty mouth like kissing bums
  mama done made her one uh, a witty son
  with no respect for women so show me your titties hun
  "you eighteen?", me? i'm twenty something
  okay i'm twenty, but i'm soon to be twenty-one
  i wild out at shows, break shit -- it should be fun
  venues are like pussy with me, "should he come?"
  i'mma wax that like the chapstick in my backpack, for my black lips
  then dip to europe and come back with a stack of cheese
  a stack of cheese for these rats, mac and cheese
  new preme shit got me feeling flyer than a bag of bees
  fuck critics, (how's your dick?), "shit, how's your knees?"
  y'all on my dick more than my index when i take a pee
  came up with ''rella'', ain't touch a bag of weed
  shit was doper than whitney houston's needs
  golf wang, that's the team to be, "aye!", getting tu, of, indeed
  we was missing sweatshirt like, where's the hooded sleeve
  okay, nevermind, we found him
  
  [hook]
  
  [verse 2: tyler, the creator]
  guess i win, checks started cashing in
  i stop rapping and start asking where my fucking passion is
  probably where that faggot went (who?), tyler talking father problems
  shocking shit he spit to popping topics in them gossip columns
  i ain't ask for this, i did it out of boredom
  thought the roach was cool, he died and pushed me into stardom
  now ye's pj sipping leche, chips ahoy! boy, listening to cowboy
  aye boy, land in melbourne and skate to fitzroy (aye!)
  aus was awes, i enjoyed, boy, y'all niggas played as a tot's toy
  have a good day as i annoy, oi
  
  [hook]
  
  [verse 3: tyler, the creator]
  cameras with panorama views
  my shoes have seen more vans than mexicanas with crackers in alabama
  g-o-to the-l-f, this o-f, i opened up a store so i don't stress
  but nigga i, (what?), mosh in gardens, jazz punk shit
  playing chords, making up shit, pardon my dolly parton's
  and i keep sharting, hoodies with rectangles and different colors
  niggers think i started kindergarten
  
  [interlude: frank ocean & tyler]
  my bitch is on my handle bars
  (i just wanna ride my bike)
  slater, slater, slater, slater
  my bitch is on my handle bars
  hair blowing in the wind
  her freckles look like candy bars
  hair blowing in the wind
  
  my bitch is on my handle bars
  (i just wanna ride my bike)
  slater, slater, slater, slater
  my bitch is on my handle bars
  hair blowing in the wind
  her freckles look like candy bars
  my cool summer never ends
  
  slater, slater, slater, slater
  
  [frank ocean]
  oh my god, seriously? mister cool guy. you're talking to a fucking bike, loser. (ha ha) oh... fuck