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[feat. Tyler the Creator] [Verse 1: Earl] Uh, was always smartmouthed and quick-witted But something was always missing like six digits Lucky seven probably poppa Little nigga so they picked on him, hassled him Things changed when I hassled back, so David hit the pavement with his grapple rap Snapple fact: you rather wack While I am popping like a snapping crack So high you could see like Tallahass, the opposite of cataracts Matter fact I am Farmer John milking cattle tracks Action packed nipple squeezing, boy colder than sniffle season Simple genius, go hard and spit bits of semen So when the street is split Don't act surprised, agree with it The Gang of Wolves and creeps and Crips Is deep as Dawson's Creek and shit I pray they got gills either that or grab some floaties I know I got skills, why you think I'm posted boasting Bragging tell this faggots to stop nagging Cause them Wolf Gang niggas threw them off the bandwagon like [Verse 2: Tyler] Uh, was always fucked up as shit with it SongtexteBut I didn't cross the line until the bridge hit it... Troll I got you niggas nervous like virgins flirting with Uncle Mervin Fucking y'all with no lubricant go grab the detergent I preach to demons at your church, now I'm the newest sermon Wearing nothing but they fucking blast with their matching turban I drive through white suburbans in the black Suburban swerving Hitting curbs and blasting Erick Sermon drunk off English Bourbon I'm stealing purses raping nurses I'm a quick consierge And treat the beat like sanitized nazi pussies, I'm a German I'm squirting while I'm masturbating and regurgitating From eating Miley Cyrus salad pussy platter they were serving My only purpose is to jerk it cause it has a curve So bitches hate to do me like it's convict community service This my Zombie Circus, you better get a fucking ticket Odd Future Wolf Gang like they're filming Twilight in this bitch [Verse 3: Earl] I'm back on my sixty six six shit Flowing like the blood out the competition's slit wrists She lick it up, Dracula, then spit it back, back at ya She mad as fuck, stuck in the back of a black Acura Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her Hello Heather yellow feathers now you ain't laughing, huh [Verse 4: Tyler] Bitch you're barely breathing leaving on the back of the boat While I fill you up with semen from the Wolf Gang team and Flowing like the creampie inside of your daughter Oughta eat the bitch with salt and wash it down with a gallon of water I grab the saw and sawed of her arm and auctioned it And dip her teeth in gold molds and flossed the shit Fucking awesome spitting box of trees, got you niggas Shaking like it's Parkinsons from the clitoris of Kelly Clarkson's dick Ironing you niggas now it's time to start some shit Drown your bitch in a tub of cum and throw a shark in it Find a random abandoned garage and go to park in it Find Earl lying on the burgundy carpet, pull my knife out, sharpen it Stab him, put a arch on it, pour unleaded gas on him Get the Zippo and spark the shit Hop back in the van and then depart the bitch Killed him on his own track, the faggot shouldn't have started it Aus Songtexte Mania