Од фьюча - Олди | Текст песни

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• Од фьюча
• Олди

[Intro: Taco]
Yo, shout out to everybody that worked on the album
You feel me, son? Yo, shouts out to Ty Dollas
Shouts out to Hodgy Daddies, shouts out to Left Brizzle
Shouts out to Domyon, shouts out to Frankie Ocean
Shouts out to Syd the Dude, shouts out to L-Boy Awk

[Verse 1: Tyler the Creator]
Big eared bandit is tossing all his manners
In a bag and wrapping them in seran wrap bandages
Tossing them in baskets with the rest of those sandwiches
So when he says "catch up, nigga" it looks like an accident
Um, flowing like my pad is the maxiest
My bitch white and black like she's been mimicking a panda
It's the dark skinned nigga, kissing bitches in Canada
Then kicking all out like Mr. Lawrence did Pamela
Put her in the chamber all against her Wilt Chamberlain
I never had a reason, nigga, I was just able
Not a fucking Logic contradicting dick head
Flyer than an ostrich moshing in a tar pit
Semen scented cheetah printed tee
In that 'Preme five panel, I'll repeat it for the season
Previous items in the present
With the normal ass past like I cheated on my team
Man (tried to get that nigga, but, Golf Wang)

[Verse 2: Hodgy Beats]
To have some type of knowledge that is one perception
But knowing you own your opponent is a defeating bonus
I'm Zeus to a Kronos
Cartilage cartridge is boneless
Smiles of cowards in lead showers
Dead spouses in red blouses
Children who fled houses on Mustang horses and went jousting
I'm on my Robin Hood shit
Robbin' in the hood: whips, drugs, jewels, and your pet
Stealing your rings, coke diamonds and your Vet
Soldiers lace the fuckin' boot
And salute like the troop when you shoot you gon' poop
It's Killhodgy, nigga, stay the fuck off my stoop
And out my Kool aid, Juice

[Verse 3: Left Brain]
Hodgy got the juice, I got the gin
Jasper got the Henny, my nigga we get it in
Wolf Gang party at the hotel
I call a ho, you call a ho, and all the hoes tell
You know Left Brain need a freak
I need a bitch to go down like a Nitty beat
Yup, uh, and her ass fat
Don't be surprised if I ask where the hash at
Nigga I'm tryin' to smoke, bitch get higher
Domo where that Flocka Flame? Talkin' 'bout a lighter
Still bang salute me or just shoot me
Cause if you don't salute me then my team will do the shooting
Yea my nigga Ace will pull the black jack
The king Mike G is in the cut with the black mac
Livin' like the Mafia, bitch, don't get to slacking up
And if these haters actin' up, throw 'em in the aqueduct
Free my nigga Earl, yo, I don't really ask for much
But two bad bitches in front of me cunnilingus

[Verse 4: Mike G]
What the fuck is caution?
Often I leave you flossin' and cause exes next to coffins
Lost in translation, the dreams you chase
Got you diving for the plates like you stealin' home base
That's great - I'm home alone dreamin' of two on ones
With Rihanna and Christina Milian, bring it on
And Travis is in the closet organizing and hangin' the tramp
Three lettermans that Ace has been makin' him
No strays while we catchin' matinees, huh?
I'm gettin' blazed thinking 'bout those days
I had the top off the GT3 like toupees
One finger in the air, all's fair when crime pays
My grand scheme of things
Is to be attached to the game like bitches to their wedding rings
And you don't even need to look
Cause we gleam obscene in the light
Ride slow to my yellow diamond shining like the Batman logo over Gotham
Rock LA to Harlem
If you say "get 'em Mike G" then I got 'em
One man squadron, nigga I'm a problem
From Briggs I got bars and plans to
Pimp these Polish bitches into pop stars
Humanity kills, we all suffer from insanity sti

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