[Verse: Tyler, The Creator]
N***as give me the cold shoulder, I can speak for myself
So I keep a high waist and alligator the belt
And got a belt with the holster, I ain't playing games
But got some lil' n***as who would do it so I pass the controller
You get pressed and X out, tri-angle your nose
Pause your life if you squares try to mess with my O's, whoa
So cut the crap like shit barbers
Cause we really with the beef like closeted gay fathers
N***a we get dollars, give 'em to Ben Baller
Exchange for them chains that's all shiny with thick water
I got back pains, neck heavy like whipped cream
My whip clean, and they all white, I whip cream
And cop boys and I joy stick, I whip cream and cop cribs
I got more space than big jeans, y'all sleeping on me
Explain why they got shit dreams
I'm alien, got the laser gun with the big beam
Married to the money, my bitch green
No I don't sip lean, but ride around in rockets like Yao Ming
Y'all n***as weak
They thought I was goofy and all mouses
Double C my luggage and fill them with Comme blouses
Y'all cop kush, my n***a I cop houses
And fill 'em with some Leo DiCap's and some Cole Sprouses, n***a