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lirik lagu seven (og) – tyler, the creator

[verse]
i’d tell him to eat a d*ck quicker than mexicans sprint over borders
i give a f*ck like a quarter with 20 cent
at hamptons with fred hampton relaxing at happy camper
it’s the f*cking (financial aid) at hamptons wasn’t relaxing, i’m taxing
“f*ck ’em all!”‘s what i’m chanting, don’t complain, i’m just ranting
f*ck ranking, i’m the best, i’m the champion’s chariot
i’m a liar like carrey in liar liar
i’m dirtier than the sheets in the marriott, cable guy like larry
peter pan in my youth, f*cking fairies (f*cking fairies)
i’m using my tooth bait to get that b*tch t**th paste
f*ck it, odd future some n*z*s (n*z*s), black n*z*s don’t copy (copy)
we perfect, you sloppy (sloppy), hotter than saki takei (takei)
f*ck a label on my jacket, screw you like a ratchet
screw you like a black teen on judge hatchett (b*tch)
hang with thrashers and jackers, drug dealers and crackers
ap students and slackers, i’m backwards
like jermaine dupri in ’93, escaping from concentration camps
with a f*cking girl board and a ramp
that i ordered from ccs with some diamonds that’s vvs
like i went to sierra leone in a homecoming dress (like i went to sierra leone in a homecoming dress, b*tch)
with some matching pink panties, lipstick from my granny
sup on my hat like that motherf*cker friendly
white red*headed b*tch reminded me of annie
she dino like my state of mind, so yeah she understand me (yup)
f*ck you bunch is here, never disrespect my family
that’s for my little brother, sister, cousin and my auntie (auntie)
wasted f*cking youth? all you old n*ggas antiques
we go skate, rape sl*ts and eat donuts from randy
b*tches like tia landry watching billy and mandy (watching billy and mandy)
motherf*ckers wanna be odd but you can’t be (can’t be, heh)
sit the f*ck down all you old n*ggas stand me, f*ggot (f*ggot, ayy)
i guess i got to be a f*cking hand*me*down rapper
from los ange’ area anytime i’m f*cking landing
f*ck (f*ck) 2dopeboyz and nahright
shoutout (shoutout) to hype trak, them motherf*ckers could never get rid of me
guess i gotta do a f*cking song with dom kennedy
get these f*cking hip hop bloggers to start feeling me
because i’m seventeen, compose my own beats
lyrically i’m dope enough to ass*f*ck the dude who made nicotine
maybe i should buy some hundreds, wear some f*cking skinny jeans
and follow in your footsteps like a motherf*cking millipede
centipede, make songs about gucci and ciga*weed
jerk with my freshmen like it’s some motherf*cking little league
no, i’m not no f*cking hipster, mister
no, i’m not no f*cking kid cudi, all my f*cking fans love me
collaboration hits for fans screaming f*ck buddies (f*ck buddies, o*f)
yo, yo
i’m driving in a stolen truck, and i’m probably f*cking drunk
wasted as f*ck, can’t walk it out, dj unk (uh!)
my nose is filled with coke and my license is revoked
(shut the f*ck up!) who the f*ck told me not to spoke? (me)
f*ck everybody here, everybody vanished
i’m managed, hop off my d*ck and make a f*cking sandwich
everybody listening can suck my d*ck in spanish
(you know what? f*ck you) f*ck you (sh*t), f*ggot (f*cking b*st*rd)
[outro]
hahaha, yeah, um, as you can probably tell from listening to this record
i was, i was probably angry, probably on my period
but um, i didn’t mean to offend anyone
alright, i’m lying
o*f

- tyler the creator

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