[Verse 1]
|
It's Earl, Mr. Early Bird, gets them girls with curvy curves
|
Skate mental truck, smack a faggot in his shirley temple
|
Your rhymes rentals, give 'em back to they owners
|
At the end of the bar, I spit with the permanents
|
Learn I'm a curb stoppin' person
|
Like third strike verdict droppin' jaw droppin' verses
|
This bigger lips in person, nigga spits some ball's Ernie shit
|
Furnish the flow until my pockets green, Kermit's dick
|
The Ms. Piggy's with a string in they ass
|
I control like 'em like your eyes when I'm takin' a glass
|
So if you thinkin' 'bout this then stop thinkin' it fast
|
Cause my wolves ten deep and they knuckles is brass, ho
|
The Ms. Piggy's with a string in they ass
|
I control like 'em like your eyes when I'm takin' a glass
|
So if you thinkin' 'bout this then stop thinkin' it fast
|
Cause my wolves ten deep and they knuckles is brass, bitch
|
|
[Hook]
|
Tell your boyfriend that's a bat and this a migrane
|
Don't ask why my jeans splattered with these white stains
|
Wait, where you goin', what you doin' tonight?
|
Just wanna know what you doin', come back
|
Tell your boyfriend that's a bat and this a migrane
|
Don't ask why my jeans splattered with these white stains
|
Where you goin', what you doin' tonight?
|
Stop runnin', where you goin', what you doin'?
|
|
[Verse 2]
|
It's Earl, Mr. Lateshift Rapist in trainin'
|
Who edge 'bout as straight as some clay-closet gay dick
|
Ray say hey Earl's a real charming racist
|
Your birthday day, have some KK cake bitch
|
Habit have it, grab it fast and attack it, faggot
|
I'm above average like I'm rappin' in the attic, yeah
|
I'm crouched in the basement shoutin' "Couch" is the greatest hit
|
Dirty as the anus is, fans stand in rain for this
|
They even stand in sleet season 'til they fuckin' feet bleedin'
|
Hail and fuckin' snow in hell with fuckin' coats
|
Probably wear more layers, there's only one Sweatshirt
|
He make 'em bow down 'til they muthafuckin' necks hurt
|
Fans probably stand in sleet season 'til they fuckin' feet bleedin'
|
Hail and fuckin' snow in hell with fuckin' coats
|
Probably wear more layers, there's only one Sweatshirt
|
He make 'em bow down 'til they muthafuckin' necks hurt
|
|
[Hook]
|
|
[Verse 3]
|
Mr. Deerskin Moccasins is on the fuckin' stalk again
|
Followin' and stalkin' all them larchmont soccer chicks
|
Choppin' limbs, knawin' legs, through they fuckin' stockings
|
Him his grandfather sweatshirt, clockin' all them cardigans
|
Product of popped rubbers and pops that did not love us
|
So when I leave home keep my heart on the top cupboard
|
So I will not stutter when I'm shoutin' fuck you, son
|
Wolf Gang 'bout it, we ain't waitin' 'til the moon come
|
Woo son, the moonshine got feelin' loose
|
As the puss of a whore who's used to abuse
|
My screws pretty loose mind fucked like the hair-doos
|
Of doo-doo mamas, dude I will bear jew you
|
You unripe fruit dudes is crews to chew through
|
My niggas wash 'em down with a fat carton of yoo-hoo
|
Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All fuck 'em all
|
No lube, it's the crew to get use to, faggot
|
|
-----------------
|
Stapleton
|
| Earl Sweatshirt |
