I'm recordin this shit on the fuckin little mic
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by the little, camera thing on the fuckin Macbook so...
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This shit is choppy and bad quality, but fuck it
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Wolf Gang, Ace Creator..
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Somebody tell Justin Beiber that I'm fuckin comin
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Ain't no point in runnin, I'm an eager, just a little queeger
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So I catch him stretchin, have him guessin where his cracker throat
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Chop his balls off and use his skin to make a baby coat
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Ain't he dope? No, (OH!) he the same as shit that Tyler wrote
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This is Ace, Wolf is in the back with Travis snortin coke
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Riley's here, Connie's dead, pickin pussy pissin pike
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She won't leave, dick as big as Kelly Price's appetite
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Apprehend a couple men, triple six is fuckin sin
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Make Queen Latifah and Sydney go slap a couple dykes
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Wrap around until they hit the ground and they hear a sound
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that doesn't make sense like nigger kids wearin cap and gowns
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This my album, and when your parents try to come around
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Do the FUCKIN' exact opposite of turnin it down
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And when they try to get parental and start talkin loud
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Tell 'em that you're from the WOLF GANG and you're fuckin proud
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Then start barkin loud (AH!) 'til the neighbors wanna calm you down
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But call the pigs who prol'ly come near in 'bout a half an hour
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Tell them that you're sorry, you're a cow, took a fuckin shower
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But make it in time for shitty re-runs of Rocket Power (okay)
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This is the shit that is makin me cynical
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The clinical attempts at schizophrenia's critical
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Fuckin voices follow me, emulatin like Twitter roll
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O.F. is the coldest thing, and I'm the fuckin general
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So when I mention suicide, I'm bein Mr. Literal
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Then poke inside nine capsules, FUCK it let's split a roll
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Life is like a phone booth, these pigeons is the fuckin toll
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1-800-FUCK-THIS-SHIT...
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Seven years old in my heart, so I'm stayin gold
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But when I fuckin' go, Lucifer will prol'ly have my soul
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It's hot down there - FUCK that, bitch I'm hot as coals
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Out the microwave, mixed with a bowl of yellow raviol'
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Yellow firetruck and Arizona during summertime
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in a turtle neck, thermal jeans, spin purple wine
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Wolf Gang 'petein, gon' live, runnin outta time
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..The fuck I give is the same as the next line
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[two bars length of silence]
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(FUCK EVERYTHING) That's what my conscience said
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Then it bunny-hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead
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Now the only guidance that I had is splattered on cement
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Actions speak louder than words, let me try this shit...
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-----------------
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Cult Shit
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Tyler, The Creator |