Odd Future, Tyler, The Creator, Domo Genesis - Sam (Is Dead) lyrics
Tyler, The Creator [Tyler Gregory Okonma] Hawthorne, California, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Odd Future, Tyler, The Creator, Domo Genesis - Sam Is Dead lyrics]
Fuck Steve Harvey
This life is a game if you wanna play
Counting all your old mistakes
Living it with no delay
So fast I'm getting growing pains
Father didn't show me my instincts
To take the open lane i go insane
All these problems comin' with my growing age
Blowing haze, tryna clear the doubt that's
Sitting on my brain
I don't complain but the kid
Inside me's feeling so restrained
Gotta stay gold and let
Desire rekindle the flame
Searching for the Fountain of Youth
When I'm freein' my brain
Bring in the horns
You hear that fucking brass?
That's little boy nigga with the trumpets
Marching with the bandwagon
Looking for his heart
No sleeve, but his hand carry muskets
Lurking in the meadows, oblivion
Motherfuck Geppetto, he's a leader
Not a puppet
Some professors nuttier than Klump's dick
So think before you blink and
Aye aye make assumptions
(Niggas)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas is coming)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas is coming)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
They want a story
A story I write the shit that I find
Very amusing
'cause all of they fucking stories are boring
It's really awkward to know that a
Bunch of kids do adore me
It's like I fathered these fuckers
So you won't find me on Maury
I'm still a kid in my heart
So I have a problem maturing
But it will come from experiences
And shit I see touring
I'm like a bird when I'm soaring, really high
And I'm really horny, from
Watching this porn, nope, but
Bring in the horns
You hear that fucking brass?
That's little boy nigga with the trumpets
Marching with the bandwagon
Looking for his heart
No sleeve, but his hand carry muskets
Lurking in the meadows, oblivion
Motherfuck Geppetto, he's a leader
Not a puppet
Some professors nuttier than Klump's dick
So think before you blink and
Aye aye make assumptions
(Niggas)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas is coming)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas is coming)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
5, 4, 3, 2, and where's Tyler?
Bottom of the countdown
Shit ain't been the same
Since I found out Hodgy Beats
Ghost wrote for Bow Wow
Now I’m the loud, shock value style
Foul-mouth fucker
That your teenage kid likes to bow down
Riding around town in Seattle
With the same shotgun that
Kurt used to click-clack, boom pow
Still suicidal but some assume
That I'm cool now
'Cause I got a fucking award
And my own room now
Nope, but I can flip shit like a couch pillow
And have my death silent like a loose vowel
The bandwagon turned into caboose, so
So, don't let that little
Nigga trumpet lose sound just let him play
This life is a game if you wanna play
Counting all your old mistakes
Living it with no delay
So fast I'm getting growing pains
Father didn't show me my instincts
To take the open lane i go insane
All these problems comin' with my growing age
Blowing haze, tryna clear the doubt that's
Sitting on my brain
I don't complain but the kid
Inside me's feeling so restrained
Gotta stay gold and let
Desire rekindle the flame
Searching for the Fountain of Youth
When I'm freein' my brain
Bring in the horns
You hear that fucking brass?
That's little boy nigga with the trumpets
Marching with the bandwagon
Looking for his heart
No sleeve, but his hand carry muskets
Lurking in the meadows, oblivion
Motherfuck Geppetto, he's a leader
Not a puppet
Some professors nuttier than Klump's dick
So think before you blink and
Aye aye make assumptions
(Niggas)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas is coming)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas is coming)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
They want a story
A story I write the shit that I find
Very amusing
'cause all of they fucking stories are boring
It's really awkward to know that a
Bunch of kids do adore me
It's like I fathered these fuckers
So you won't find me on Maury
I'm still a kid in my heart
So I have a problem maturing
But it will come from experiences
And shit I see touring
I'm like a bird when I'm soaring, really high
And I'm really horny, from
Watching this porn, nope, but
Bring in the horns
You hear that fucking brass?
That's little boy nigga with the trumpets
Marching with the bandwagon
Looking for his heart
No sleeve, but his hand carry muskets
Lurking in the meadows, oblivion
Motherfuck Geppetto, he's a leader
Not a puppet
Some professors nuttier than Klump's dick
So think before you blink and
Aye aye make assumptions
(Niggas)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas is coming)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
(Niggas is coming)
Your left, your left, your left, right left
5, 4, 3, 2, and where's Tyler?
Bottom of the countdown
Shit ain't been the same
Since I found out Hodgy Beats
Ghost wrote for Bow Wow
Now I’m the loud, shock value style
Foul-mouth fucker
That your teenage kid likes to bow down
Riding around town in Seattle
With the same shotgun that
Kurt used to click-clack, boom pow
Still suicidal but some assume
That I'm cool now
'Cause I got a fucking award
And my own room now
Nope, but I can flip shit like a couch pillow
And have my death silent like a loose vowel
The bandwagon turned into caboose, so
So, don't let that little
Nigga trumpet lose sound just let him play