[Verse 1]
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I'm a fuckin' walkin' paradox, no I'm not
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Threesomes with a fuckin' triceratops, Reptar
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Rappin' as I'm mockin' deaf rock stars
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Wearin' synthetic wigs made of Anwar's dreadlocks
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Bedrock, harder than a muthafuckin' Flintstone
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Makin' crack rocks outta pissy nigga fishbones
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This nigga Jasper tryna get grown
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About 5'7" of his bitches in my bedroom
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Swallow the cinnamon, I'mma scribble this sinnin' shit
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While Syd is tellin' me that she's been gettin' intimate with men
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(Syd, shut the fuck up) Here's the number to my therapist
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(Shit) Tell him all your problems, he's fuckin' awesome with listenin'
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[Verse 2]
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Jesus called, he said he's sick of the disses
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I told him to quit bitchin' and this isn't a fuckin' hotline
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For a fuckin' shrink, sheesh I already got mine
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And he's not fuckin' workin', I think I'm wastin' my damn time
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I'm clockin' three past six and goin' postal
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This the revenge of the dicks, that's nine cocks that cock nines
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This ain't no V Tech shit or Columbine
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But after bowlin', I went home to some damn Adventure Time
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(What'd you do?) I slipped myself some pink Zannies
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And danced around the house in all-over print panties
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My mom's gone, that fuckin' broad will never understand me
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I'm not gay, I just wanna boogie to some Marvin
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(What you think of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her, Wolf Haley robbin' 'em
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I'll crash that fuckin' airplane that faggot nigga B.o.B is in
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And stab Bruno Mars in his goddamn esophagus
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And won't stop until the cops come in
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I'm an over acheiver, so how 'bout I start a team of leaders
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And pick up Stevie Wonder to be the wide receiver
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Green paper, gold teeth and pregnant gold retrievers
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All I want, fuck money, diamonds and bitches, don't need 'em
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But where the fat ones at? I got somethin' to feed 'em
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In some cookin' books, the black kids never wanted to read 'em
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Snap back, green ch-ch-chia fuckin' leaves
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It's been a couple months, and Tina still ain't perm her fuckin' weave, damn
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[Verse 3]
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They say success is the best revenge
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So I beat DeShay up with the stack of magazines I'm in
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Oh, not again, another critic writin' report
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I'm stabbin' any bloggin' faggot hipster with a Pitchfork
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Still suicidal? I am
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I'm Wolf, Tyler put this fuckin' knife in my hand
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I'm Wolf, Ace gon' put that fuckin' hole in my head
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And I'm Wolf, that was me who shoved a cock in your bitch
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(What the fuck, man?) Fuck the fame and all the hype, G
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I just wanna know if my father would ever like me
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But I don't give a fuck so he's probably just like me
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A muthafuckin' Goblin
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(Fuck everythin', man) 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, dead
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Yonkers
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Tyler, The Creator |