Album: Wolf (2013)
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  • Watch me get this money nigga, tired of being hungry nigga
    Nothing funny, sass me while I'm thrashing, I'ma punch a nigga
    Never made of plastic, I'm a savage, you look lunch my nigga
    Passing all you hating fucking fags we don't discuss, my nigga
    We ain't on no jolly shit and we don't pop no mollies, bitch
    I'm hockin', spitting got some niggas out here poppin' Ollie switch
    Buncha novices, odd future the squad, its thick
    Them young niggas is back and brash, attacking with no common sense
    We the last of a dying breed
    And we don't give a fuck, so we cannot supply your needs
    You stupid niggas who had said our hype is dying, please
    My pocket's solid, making profit off the highest tees
    Bitch, twerk as I get on the verse, cursin'
    Nigga Dom so cool, I refer him in third person
    Watch me get this money, I'm up when the bird's chirpin'
    Make actions, fuck rehearsing

    Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time, 24/365
    You niggas gon' give me mine, I don't have plenty time
    Flying out at any time, getting money, any grind
    You niggas gon' give me mine, you niggas gon' give me mine

    Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time, 24/365
    You niggas gon' give me mine, I don't have plenty time
    Flying out at any time, getting money, any grind
    You niggas gon' give me mine, you niggas gon' give me mine

    In a world where kids my age are popping mollies with leather
    Sitting on tumblr, never outside or enjoying the weather
    Can name a sweater, but not a talent or don't know if whether
    Or not they got one, tried to change their life for the better
    I was a drama club kid, I'd run with a fun dip, my nuts itched
    I was defiant, always said, "fuck shit"
    Hated the popular ones, now I'm the popular one
    Also hated homes too, til I start coppin' me some
    See I don't beez in the trap, nigga, I beez in the b's
    And I be gassin' in my buzz like some bees in a shell
    Fucking sick and getting bigger like I sneezed on Adele
    And bitches getting touchy-feely like they reading some braille
    I bust quick like gun-holders with short tempers, and well
    I tried to tell the kids, like fuck it, start being yourself
    These fucking rappers got stylists, it's cause they can't think for themselves
    See, they don't have an identity, so they needed some help, but
    Really, boy posers looking silly boy
    I'm in that past season 'preme shit, older than Tity Boi
    Not a diss, but same with ice cream, my shit is (diddy riese)
    Na'kel smith transworld page 64
    Poppin' like oil, ollies, and fire flames
    I'm harder than DJ Khaled playing the fucking quiet game
    The fuck am I saying? Tyler's not even a violent name
    I'm 'bout as threatening as stained windbreakers in hurricanes
    But he rapes women, and spit wrong, like he hate dentists
    God damn menace, 666 and he's not finished
    And my shit's missing, he hates women, but loves kittens
    See y'all niggas trippin' man
    Look at that article that says my subject matter is wrong
    Saying I hate gays even though frank is on 10 of my songs
    Look at that mom who thinks I'm evil, hold that grudge against me
    Though I'm the reason that her motherfucking son got to eat
    Look at the kid who had the 9 and tried to blow out his mind
    But talk is money, I said, "hi," I guess I bought him some time
    Look 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 atheist that just worships Satan
    And it's probably why I'm not getting no fucking album placements
    And MTV could suck my dick, and I ain't fuckin' playing
    Bruh, they never played it, I just won shit for their fucking ratings
    "Analog" fans are getting sick of the rape
    All the Tron Cat fans are getting sick of the lakes
    But what about me, bitch? I'm getting sick of complaints
    But I don't hate it when I'm taking daily trips to the bank
    Over and over, shit, who really gives a fuck what I think?
    My fans don't think turning on me, shit, they're almost extinct
    Fuck buying studio time I'ma go purchase a shrink
    Record the session and send all you motherfuckers a link, bitch

    Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time, 24/365
    You niggas gon' give me mine, I don't have plenty time
    Flying out at any time, getting money, any grind
    You niggas gon' give me mine, you niggas gon' give me mine

    Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time, 24/365
    You niggas gon' give me mine, I don't have plenty time
    Flying out at any time, getting money, any grind
    You niggas gon' give me mine, you niggas gon' give me mine

    This shit just like the nights I look forward to not remembering
    So much for being sober, I hope that you can forgive me
    But 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 ocular, jumping like they told me
    That the 40's half off, like you know that cliff
    Don't need a therapist to tell him he could float that shit (fucking faggot)
    Or get compared to fucking pair with all the program kids
    So 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 and
    All of them sensitive chumps in awe when that pistol erupts (pistol, I got one!)
    Dirty one spitting that sumpy raw till his wrists in the cuffs
    Bitch gotta (Oh, shut the fuck up!) Writer/s: Dominique Cole, Thebe Kgositsile, Tyler Okonma
    Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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