Tyler, The Creator - Drugs lyrics

Pipe

How could you not see the germs?
Don’t fuck with brownies from the trap
They make my tummy burn
I burned a eighth of sherm, stopped at 76
Came back with a bag of
Chips and some gummy worms
Fuck, left my lemonade on the countertop
This shit is fight
Pound of whop that I’m hitting up
Dude I found a pipe, fuck a blunt
Stop the twisting up fuck, I need a light
Where’s the matches? Hurry, listen up
Growing up, they said we wasn’t missing much
But a Philly blunt in a bag
And not give a fuck
When it comes to green shit
I don’t lack at all
Known for keepin’ swish but
I really hate basketball
Some might say the boy’s amazing
Eyes low, red, looking like a sad Asian
This new shit hit's like Jet
Lee in a awkward situation
On a mofo, nig​ga I’m faded
Long story short this hit's hard
Hi mom, thanks for the Wingstop gift card
See I’ma call you later, well
If my shit’s charged
I’m playing iPhone DJ in my bitch car
Bong rips iced when the glass out
Pack the gas masks full of
Hash until I pass out
Cigarillo, or Mr twist ostimo
Looking like a smoke shop
Twinter than the window i don’t even know
But I’m just spittin’ and I’m
Faded in the gated
Looking like the fucking gated community
And la-di-di-di-di

Haha