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letra de oldie ft. xxxtentacion [unofficial collab] - odd future

[verse 1: tyler, the creator]
the big-eared bandit is tossin’ all his manners
in a bag and wrappin’ them in saran wrap bandages
tossin’ ’em in baskets with the rest of those sandwiches
so when he says, “catch up, n-gga,” it looks like an accident
um, flowing like my pad is the maxiest
my b-tch white and black like she’s been mimicking a panda
it’s the dark-skinned n-gga, kissing b-tches in canada
then kicking all out like mr. lawrence did pamela
put her in the chamber all against her wilt chamberlain
i never had a reason, n-gga, i was just ableton
not a f-cking logic-contradicting d-ckhead (not a logic)
flyer than an ostrich moshing in a tar pit
s-m-n-scented cheetah printed tee
in that ‘preme five-panel, i’ll repeat it for the season
previous items in the present
with the normal-ass past like i cheated on my team
it’s me

[verse 2: mike g]
(we out here)
what the f-ck is caution?
often i leave ’em flossing in kaws, exes next to coffins
lost in translation, the dreams you chase
got you diving for the plates like you stealing home base
that’s great, i’m home alone dreaming of two on ones
with rihanna and christina milian, bring it on
and travis is in the closet organizing and hanging the tramp
three lettermans that ace has been making him
no strays while we catching matinees, huh?
i’m getting blazed thinking ’bout those days
i had the top off the gt3 like toupees
one finger in the air, all’s fair when crime pays
my grand scheme of things is to be attached
to the game like b-tches to their wedding rings
and you don’t even need to look ’cause we gleam obscene
in the light, ride slow to my yellow diamond shining
like the batman logo over gotham, rock la to harlem
if you say, “get ’em, mike g,” then i got ’em
one man squadron, n-gga, i’m a problem
from briggs, i got bars and plans to
pimp these polish b-tches into pop stars
humanity k!lls, we all suffer from insanity still
and if i said it then it is or it’s gonna be real
of ’til i od and i probably will, uh
[interlude: jasper dolphin]
goddammit!
rapping is stupid and it’s hard
gotta do it over and over and over again but here it go

[verse 3: jasper dolphin]
hey, it’s jasper, not even a rapper
only on this beat to make my racks grow faster
got a tv show, so i guess i’m an actor
pothead, half-baked, lookin’ like chappelle
rollin’ up a blunt with that fire from h-ll (woo)
still ignorant, still hit a b-tch (wow)
wolf gang, n-gga, so i still don’t give a sh-t (woo)
catch me in the back with miley’s on my lap (sh-t)
bong rips as i feel on that little b-tch cat (cat)

[interlude: jasper dolphin]
hah, n-gga came through with a 9-bar real quick
just for the b-tches, little bit of money in my pocket
f-ck it, wolf gang

[verse 4: xxxtentacion]
p-ssy popper
young waka flocka
we shakin’ like maracas
don’t forget sinatra
my b-tch is like rihanna
betty yet beyoncé
had to take her top off, gun shots’a pop off
mi nuh f-ck ’round with dem bwoy dem, dem
bwoy dem get chop off
tell di bwoy fi gwaan fi him
gyal and suck him bloodclaat
d-ck stains let my d-ck hang like a nunchuk
anyway, i can’t b-tch, i’m just tryna get my nut sucked
hah, so f-ck luck
b-tch, it’s pure sk!ll when i gun bust
glocks like .50 on my n-ggas, acupuncture
f-ck like, it’s a sh-t night
get your mind right, only way a n-gga coolin’ if i get high, right?
high up in the sky, right?
motherf-cka’ cloud all my n-ggas in the ground right now
and i bash like zao, like pow
mind within the comic, i’m so high right now
so pass that
skinny motherf-cker, won’t you tell me where the cash at?
i’m about to end a n-gga life so where the stash at?
got about 20 f-ckin’ mil’, just chilling in my backpack
call a fat b-tch then i hit it in her ass crack
[verse 5: tyler, the creator]
of, sh-t, that’s all i got
from my bigger brother frankie to my little brother tac
from that father figure clancy to that skatey n-gga nak
shreddin’ down ‘fax, wolf gang run the f-ckin’ block
storefront, knee tat
book cover is the same lettering on lettermans and cotton socks
and grip tape… and my shoes
um, i was fifteen when i first drew that donut
five years later, for our label, yeah, we own it
i started an empire, i ain’t even old enough
to drink a f-cking beer, i’m tipsy off this soda pop
this is for the n-ggers in the suburbs
and the white kids with n-gga friends that say the n-word
and the ones who got called weird, f-g, b-tch, nerd
’cause you was into jazz, kitty cats and steven spielberg
they say we ain’t actin’ right
always try to turn our f-ckin’ color into black and white
but they’ll never change ’em, never understand ’em
radical’s my anthem, turn my f-ckin’ amps up
so instead of critiquing and b-tchin’, bein’ mad as f-ck
just admit, not only are we talented, we’re rad as f-ck, b-tches

[outro: tyler, the creator]
ofm, banging on your fm
gnaw, 2011, yeah
golf w-ng

- odd future

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