Odd Future - Oldie lyrics

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 Domyen
Shouts out to Frankie Ocean
Shouts out to Syd the Dude
Shouts out to L-Boy, awwwwk i told you

The big-eared bandit is tossin'
All his manners in a bag and wrappin' them
In Saran wrap bandages
Tossin' 'em 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 Ableton
Not a fucking Logic-contradicting dickhead
(Not a Logic)
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 (Ha ha ha)
Previous items in the present
With the normal-ass past like I
Cheated on my team it's me
(Tried to get that nigga, but, Golf
Wang see, he did come back, though)

To have some type of knowledge
That is one perception
But knowin' you own your opponent
Is a defeatin' 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 joustin'
I'm on my Robin Hood shit
Robbing in the hood
Whips, drugs, jewels and your pet
I'm stealin' your rims
Coke diamonds and your Vette
Soldiers lace the fuckin' boot
And salute like the troop, when they shoot
You gon' brrrooop it's KILLHodgy, nigga
Stay the fuck off my stoop
And out my Kool-Aid, Juice

What's up, bitch?
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 (yeah)
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 tryna smoke, bitch, get higher
(What up, what up, what's up, smoke)
Domo, where that Flocka Flame?
Talking '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
Yeah, my nigga Ace will pull the black jack
The king Mike G is in the
Cut with the black mac
We like the mafia, bitch
Don't get to slacking up
And if these haters acting 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

(We out here) what the fuck is caution?
Often I leave 'em flossing in KAWS
Exes next to coffins
Lost in translation, the dreams you chase
Got you diving for the plates
Like you stealing home base that's great
I'm home alone dreaming of two on ones
With Rihanna and Christina Milian
Bring it on and Travis is in the closet
Organizing and hanging the tramp
Three lettermans that Ace has been making him
No strays while we catching matinees, huh?
I'm getting 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 still
And if I said it then it
Is or it's gonna be real
OF 'til I OD and I probably will, uh

It's still Mr smoke-a-Lotta-Pot
Get your baby mommy popped
With my other snobby bop
Do I love her? Probably not
Know your shit is not as hot
As anything I fuckin' drop
Bitch, I'm in the zone, stand alone
Like Macaulay Culk
I've been runnin' blocks since a snotty tot
Big wheel was a big deal
With the water Glocks
Now I'm all grown, same song
Just a different waltz fire what I talk
But still cooler than an Otter Pop
Op, Dom next shit in your wish list
Mad sick shit, mad dick for your bitches
On some slick shit
Your mistress on my hit list
And I'm lifted 'til I'm
Stiff outta this bitch
Odd in your motherfuckin' area
(Motherfuckin' area)
Blood clots give me five feet 'fore I bury ya
('Fore I bury ya)
Suicide flow, let the big wave carry ya
(Suicide flow, let the big wave carry ya)
Tyler got the mask like he held Jim Carrey up
And fuck your team, ho, nigga, wassup?
(Wassup?)
Wolf Gang so you know we not givin' no fucks
You know me dog, I'm a chill in the cut
So I can cut it short
Break it down, couple pounds, roll it up

Get me a Persian rug where
The center looks like Galaga right, right

Rent a supercar for a day
Drive around with your friends
Smoke a gram of that haze
Bro, easy on the ounce
That's a lot for a day
But just enough for a week, my nigga
What can I say? I'm high and I'm bi, wait
I mean I'm straight i'ma get you this wine
The runner just brought the grapes
My brother give it some time, Morris, and Day
Course you know the vibe's just
As fly as the rhymes on the song
Cut and you could sample the feel
Headphone bleed, make this shit sound real
Used to work the grill, fat burger and fries
Then I made a mil' and
Them psychics was liars
Now, how many fucking crystal balls
Can I buy and own?
Humble old me had to flex for the folks
Down in Muscle Beach pumping iron and bone
Bumping oldies off my cellular phone
Yeah, bumping oldies off my cellular phone
Bumping oldies off my cellular phone

Goddammit! Rapping is stupid and it's hard
Gotta do it over and over and
Over again but here it go

Hey, it's Jasper, not even a rapper
Only on this beat to make
My racks grow faster
Got a TV show, so I guess I'm an actor
Pothead, half baked, lookin' like Chappelle
Rollin' up a blunt with that fire from hell
(Woo)
Still ignorant, still hit a bitch (Wow)
Wolf Gang, nigga
So I still don't give a shit (Woo)
Catch me in the back with Miley's on my lap
(Shit)
Bong rips as I feel on that little bitch cat
(Cat)

Hah, nigga came through with a
9 bar real quick just for the bitches
Little bit of money in my pocket
Fuck it, Wolf Gang yeah, fuck that

Look, for contrast, here's a pair of lips
Swallowin' sarapin
Settin' fire to sheriff's whips
(Whoops, whoops) Fuckin'
All-American terrorist
Crushin' rapper larynx to feed 'em
A fuckin' carrot stick
And me? I just spent a year Ferrisin'
And lost a little sanity to
Show you what hysterics is
Spit 'til the lips meet the
Bottom of a barrel, so that sterile piss
Flow remind these niggas where embarrassed is
Narrow, tight line, might impair him since
I made it back to Fahrenheit
Grimey get dinero type
Feral, fuckin' ill-apparel-wearin' pack
Of parasites threw his own youth off
The roof after paradise la di da di
Back in here to fuck the party up
Raidin' fridges
Tippin' over vases with a tommy gun
Never dollars
Poppa make it rain hockey pucks
And sixty day chips from
Fuckin' awesome anonymous
Call him bloated 'til he show
'em that the flow deluxe
Off the wall loafers
Four Loko in a cobra clutch
Vocals bold and rough
Evoke a ho to pose as drum
And let me hit and beat it with
A stick until the hole is numb
The culprit of the potent punch
Scoldin' hot as dunkin' scrotum
In a Folgers cup or Nevada
Drivin' drunk inside a stolen truck
And shittin' like his colon bust
Belly full of chicken and a
Fifth of old petroleum
Supernova, I'm rollin' over the novices
And roamin' through the forest and spittin'
Cold as his porridge is
Stay gold 'til the case closed
And the story end
Post mortem porkin' this rap
Shit and record it
To escort it to the morgue again
Lord of lips
Bored of this, forklift the tippy top
Best under 40 list
Stormin' the gate, ensurin' the bass
Scorchin', leave these motherfuckers sore
In torso and face (Ugh)
Get at me, we savages, half a pack of Apache
Indian pack of niggas who don't give a
Fuck if we nasty as flatulence
As a matter of fact, your swagger is tacky
So see me, you can't
Like Crunchy Black catchin' a taxi
Uh, back like lateral passin'
With that motherfuckin' gladiator
Manner of rappin' as an addict
I let Percocet and Xannies relax me
Fall back if your paddies is Maxi, please

OF, shit, that's all I got
From my bigger brother Frankie to
My little brother Tac
From that father figure Clancy to
That skatey nigga Nak shreddin' down 'Fax
Wolf Gang run the fuckin' block
Storefront, knee tat
Book cover is the same lettering
On lettermans and cotton socks
And grip tape and my shoes
Um, I was fifteen when I
First drew that donut
Five years later, for our label, yeah
We own it
I started an empire, I ain't even old enough
To drink a fucking beer
I'm tipsy off this soda pop
This is for the niggers in the suburbs
And the white kids with nigga
Friends that say the n-word
And the ones who got
Called weird, fag, bitch, nerd
'Cause you was into jazz
Kitty cats and Steven Spielberg
They say we ain't actin' right
Always try to turn our fuckin'
Color into black and white
But they'll never change 'em
Never understand 'em
Radical's my anthem, turn my fuckin' amps up
So instead of critiquing and bitchin'
Bein' mad as fuck
Just admit, not only are we
Talented, we're rad as fuck, bitches

OFM, banging on your FM gnaw, 2011, yeah
Golf Wang