[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]
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So I'm guessin' there's questions that need addressin', huh?
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Like how we fresh in our adolescence and wreckin' 'em
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Hand'em tracks, he destined to make a mess of 'em
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Snappin' necks and records in matter of seconds check 'em son
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Lost an erection and found it in an aggressive nun
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Fuckin' chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done
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No FX, in these doper than sess sessions son
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Chillin' for a while on a pile of the rest of 'em
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Let the crowd choose who can fuckin' last longer
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It's the rap monger, rap monster Earl Sweat attack, conquer
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Lose least, niggas lost like the last blanca chica
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That we picked up at the last concert
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Please, get out ya seat, get out ya seat, verses written with scalpels
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He's the junior king standin' out shoutin' on the balcony
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How come he's not in counselin'? Fucka's loud while he's sound asleep
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Heard he was dope as Sour D, nigga was Courage cowardly?
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Stay Gold, alchemy, nigga we rap's Alpha Team
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Mr. Teen and Mr. T with a mouth full of powder
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And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see
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Now watch him count the bodies like bitches be countin' calories
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[Verse 2: Tyler the Creator]
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Fuck with the Wolves, we startin' to bark viciously
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Catch us in a pile of bodies where dead bitches be
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Box Logo hoodies and goodies from buddies that understand
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That Bastard was buzzin' like Woody so we get it for free
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Had to duct tape the mother goose the mask was off
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I stumbled down a hill then I had Jill jack me off
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Harder than my dick when Taylor Swift is in my basement
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Cause I've been doin' this since Pooh fucked Christopher Robin, son
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Wolf Gang knitted on my cotton like some smelly
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Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin
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Do not give a fuck I've got the swagger of a virgin's dick
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But if I did it would be bigger than Earl's upper lip
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Sip sizzurp, Supreme on my shizzirt
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I munch a bunch of tacos with Waverly's favorite wizard
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The favorite nigger turned into Freddy Kruger
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And this that raw shit, dead bodies chopped up in the sewer
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From the palms of Jeffrey Dahmer, baby mamas said the kicks
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Beat like the brown lip balm that was made for Rihanna
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All you fuckin' bloggin' faggots yappin' up that extra shit
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I'll shove Bastard down your throat, regurgitate my excrement
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Them 2DopeBoyz is fairies they're Peter like boysenberries
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Meka scary, turn his white ass to a Jim Carrey twin
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A fuckin' sausage fest will them shaky niggas get married then
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2DopeBoyz don't want beef, they're just overweight vegetarians
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Orange Juice
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Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All |