LETRA
Usa A− / A+ para ajustar el tamañoRusty
[Intro]I'm saying, you know, likeAll I ever told you to do was grow up, don't grow downYou know, like, you know, grow upDon't grow down, grow outYou go from being a kid, just doing your thinghanging out with your friendsMonths later you're world famousYou're a gay rights activist, and you don't even know itYou know what, I don't wanna say it to you no more, TylerFuck you, Tyler![Verse 1: Domo Genesis]Watch me get this money, niggatired of being hungry, niggaNothing funny, sass me while I'm thrashingI'mma punch you, niggaNever made of plastic, I'm a savageyou look lunch, my niggaPassing all you hating fucking fagswe don't discuss, my niggaWe ain't on no jolly shit and we don't pop no Mollies, bitchI'm hocking, spitting got some niggas out herepopping ollie switchBuncha novices, Odd Future the squad, is thickThem young niggas is back and brashattacking with no common senseWe the last of a dying breedAnd we don't give a fuck, so we cannot supply your needsYou stupid niggas who had said our hype is dying, pleaseMy pockets solid, making profit off the highest teesBitch, merch twerk as I get on the verse, cursingNigga Dom so cool, I refer him in third personWatch me get this moneyI'm up when the birds chirpingMake actions, fuck rehearsing[Hook: Domo Genesis]Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time, 24 365You niggas gon' give me mineI don't have plenty timeFlying out at any time, getting money, any grindYou niggas gon' give me mineyou niggas gon' give me mine[Verse 2: Tyler, the Creator]In a world where kids my ageare popping Mollies with leatherSitting on Tumblr, never outside or enjoying the weatherCan name a sweaterbut not a talent or don't know if whetherOr not they got one, tried to change their life for the betterI was the drama club kidI run where the fun did, my nuts itchedI was defiant, always said, "Fuck shit"Hated the popular ones, now I'm the popular oneAlso hated homes too, til I start coppin' me someSee I don't beez in the trap, nigga, I beez in the b'sAnd I be gassing up my buzz like some bees at a ShellFucking sick and getting bigger like I sneezed on AdeleAnd bitches getting touchy-feelylike they reading some BrailleI bust quick like gun-holders with short tempers, and wellI tried to tell the kids, like fuck it, start being yourselfThese fucking rappers got stylistscause they can't think for themselvesSee, they don't have an identityso they needed some help, butReally, boy? Posers looking silly, boyI'm in that past season 'Preme shit, older than Tity BoiNot a diss, but same with ice cream, my shit is [Diddy Riese]Na'kel Smith. Transworld page 64Poppin' like oil, ollies, and fire flamesI'm harder than DJ Khaled playing the fucking quiet gameThe fuck am I saying? Tyler's not even a violent nameAbout as threatening as stained windbreakers in hurricanesBut he rapes women, and spit wrong, like he hate dentistsGod damn menace, 666 and he's not finishedAnd my shit's missing, he hates womenbut love kittensSee y'all niggas tripping, manLook at that article that says my subject matter is wrongSaying I hate gayseven though Frank is on 10 of my songsLook at that Mom who thinks I'm evilhold that grudge against meThough I'm the reason that her motherfucking songot to eatLook at the kid who had the 9and tried to blow out his mindBut talk is moneyI said, "Hi, " I guess I bought him some timeLook at the ones in the crowd -- that shit is barnacles, huh?They thought I wasn't fair until I threw a carnival, huh?But then again, I'm an athiest that just worships SatanAnd it's probably whyI'm not getting no fucking album placementsAnd MTV could suck my dick, and I ain't fuckin' playingBruh, they never played itI just won shit for they fucking ratings"Analog" fans are getting sick of the rapeAll the "Tron Cat" fans are getting sick of the lakesBut what about me, bitch? I'm getting sick of complaintsBut I don't hate it when I'm taking daily trips to the bankOver and over, shit, who really gives a fuck what I think?My fans don't think turning on me, shitthey're almost extinctFuck buying studio time, I'mma go purchase a shrinkRecord the sessionand send all you motherfuckers a link, bitch[Hook]Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time, 24 365You niggas gon' give me mineI don't have plenty timeFlying out at any time, getting money, any grindYou niggas gon' give me mineyou niggas gon' give me mine[Verse 3: Earl Sweatshirt]This shit just like the nightsI look forward to not rememberingSo much for being sober, I hope that you can forgive meBut Momma, I'm close to the edge as possible(why don't you jump, you fucking pussy?)I'm seeing it's a drop in my occularjumping like they told meThat the 40's half off, like you know that cliffDon't need a therapist to tell himhe could float that shit (fucking faggot)Or get compared to fucking pair with all the program kidsSo maybe a pair of pale bitches for the gonads lick(I'll show you)Malt liquor filling me up, and all us not giving no fucks andAll of them sensitive chumps in awewhen that pistol erupts (Pistol, I got one!)Dirty one spitting that sumpy rawtill his wrists in the cuffs(Oh, shut the fuck up!)(Gunshot)[Outro: Sam]Samuel's here!Where's Wolf?Fucking faggotSalem was mine, bitch!Was that good enough, you fucking pussy?
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