Tyler, the Creator - Slow It Down | Текст песни

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• Tyler, the Creator
• Slow It Down

[Verse 1: Hodgy Beats]
We come through throbbin' like thunder storms
Make them feets get wet and funky up in they under arms
I'm too explosive for your ears like I'm throwin' bombs
With the exclusive on the channel, b*tch I know it's on
N*ggas get mad like cheerleaders, they throw the pom-poms
Suck a dick, eat salam gettin' they nails done in salons
Hodgy Beats is like limp balm
If you talk shit, I'll make you cry and tell your big moms
I got nice hands, n*ggas eat out my big palms
Haters must be starvin' nowadays I make California Vietnam
And I'm goin' to embalm my creativity
Into a CD-rom, so you can feel this shit up on

[Hook]
Turn it up, where's the bass?
Bring the keys, yeah
Turn it up, where's the bass?
Bring the keys, oh my God
Turn it up n*gga, where's the bass?
Could you bring the keys? Yeah
Turn it up, n*gga where's the bass?
Drop the drums

[Verse 2]
Pink chinchilla, cause I'm like Thrilla
My t-shirts are bathin', a bathin' gorilla
You n*ggas all hype like you drink a cup of Splenda
But I ate that whole plate like a fat b*tch dinner
I'm never the winner, always the loser
I don't choose to win, but I will choose her
Her kitty-cat fish loves his tuna
I never use a fork I always spoon her
Go nuts, instrumental flow much
European model white b*tch is eatin' donuts
F*ck you faggots, I'm with a fat b*tch
Makin' shit come like I'm go-go gadget
I'm mental, it's instrumental
Make your future therapist ask for dental records
And I hope this record have you stabbin' n*ggas with colored pencils

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
Yo, bubble gum that Reese's Pieces
You're feelin' life, I'll mug your teachers
I've got Muslims crawlin' on Jesus
I f*cked Kelly, where is Regis?
Found Alicia, now she keyless
Cold as ice, and now I'm creamless
Murdered every bod from my squad
So technically, now I'm teamless, O.F. is so prestigious

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