Tyler, The Creator - Inglorious lyrics
Tyler, The Creator [Tyler Gregory Okonma] Hawthorne, California, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Tyler, The Creator - Inglorious lyrics]
Well, Tyler, uh it's about that time
I mean, you're a good kid, just misguided
Okay, so is there anything else you
Wanna say before we end this?
My father died the day I came
Out of my mother's hole
And left a burden on my soul
Until I was old enough
To understand that the fuckin' faggot
Didn't like me much
He loved my moms enough to bust
A nut and then he (Shake Junt)
Bring Your Pops to School
Day, for twelve years, i cheated
Told the fuckin' faculty that he
Was at a meeting and
Bring That Dude to Life day
He wasn't at the meeting
Made a U turn on the way there like
"The fuck am I thinking?" (What?)
Birthdays, Christmas
My only fucking wishlist
Was CDs (And a father) and a new fit
Instead, I got some CDs
Inhaler, some Ritalin, some white socks
I was hyper 'cause I ain't get
Attention from my real pops
Cops say I'm supposed to be in jail
But they don't know it's me
Statistics say that niggas with no
Father ain't gon' be shit (Nigga)
Well I guess I had one, 'cause, nigga, I'm it
You smell that?
(yeah) That's the odor of success, bitch
I know I'm not the only bastard in America
So I'm gon' to need some help
On this next part scream it with me, niggas
(Fuck you) I'm good (Fuck you) I graduated
(Without you) I'm good (Fuck you) I'm good
(Nigga, eighteen) I'm good
(Fuck you) I'm good
(Got a car, nigga) Fuck you
(Eat a dick, nigga) Bitch
Father's Day was the worst when
It came to gifts
'Cause I ain't know for who or
What the fuck to get
Now, my mama mentioned the day
Before what she would like
'Cause she's playin' both roles, like
Her occupation was dyke, fucking right
I ain't look up to Obama and Nixon (Nope)
I look up to the Hugos and Dixons (Yup)
The niggas in the vision
Rap about the shit they
Cooking in the kitchen pushing keys
Like them niggas that were
Banging on them keys
My father never seen me
The nigga probably Stevie
He bought me a hoodie, a couple albums
Like that's gonna make up for
The years and the tears
And the money that my mama
Spent on rent and clothes
You fucking dipped out, I swear to God
If I see you I'ma get out
The M-16 and let a fucking clip out (RAH)
'Cause in 16 years, you let
Your kid doubt the existence, none
I don't give a fuck either
Like father, like son, i'm done
He ain't give a fuck about me
He ain't give a fuck about you
He ain't give a fuck about we
So what the fuck we gon' do?
(Fuck you) I'm good (Fuck you) I graduated
(Without you) I'm good (Fuck you) I'm good
(Nigga, eighteen) I'm good
(Fuck you) I'm good
(Got a car, nigga) Fuck you
(Eat a dick, nigga) Bitch
The cold is nice
And I'm not talking 'bout the weather
The skin is thick, no need for leather
Your father called
He said you're better without him
I'm not the only fuck without them
How to tie a tie and how
To get your suit hemmed
Up, take it to the shop, then, what?
Fuck it, momma's proud of her asthmatic
Thin fuck
Luck on my brim, Sup-preme keeps me warm
When the cold blood swarms in my veins
Fuck rain in the summer
The bummer is the fact that I'm black
And I hang with white Neos
Whose marrow stays frío
Now, this counselor is tryna tell
Me that I'm emo she don't give a fuck
D-low, where's the trigger? I'll let
This bullet play hero shit
No, no, fuck that fuck that
I ain't deserve this i'm over it
Bang!
I mean, you're a good kid, just misguided
Okay, so is there anything else you
Wanna say before we end this?
My father died the day I came
Out of my mother's hole
And left a burden on my soul
Until I was old enough
To understand that the fuckin' faggot
Didn't like me much
He loved my moms enough to bust
A nut and then he (Shake Junt)
Bring Your Pops to School
Day, for twelve years, i cheated
Told the fuckin' faculty that he
Was at a meeting and
Bring That Dude to Life day
He wasn't at the meeting
Made a U turn on the way there like
"The fuck am I thinking?" (What?)
Birthdays, Christmas
My only fucking wishlist
Was CDs (And a father) and a new fit
Instead, I got some CDs
Inhaler, some Ritalin, some white socks
I was hyper 'cause I ain't get
Attention from my real pops
Cops say I'm supposed to be in jail
But they don't know it's me
Statistics say that niggas with no
Father ain't gon' be shit (Nigga)
Well I guess I had one, 'cause, nigga, I'm it
You smell that?
(yeah) That's the odor of success, bitch
I know I'm not the only bastard in America
So I'm gon' to need some help
On this next part scream it with me, niggas
(Fuck you) I'm good (Fuck you) I graduated
(Without you) I'm good (Fuck you) I'm good
(Nigga, eighteen) I'm good
(Fuck you) I'm good
(Got a car, nigga) Fuck you
(Eat a dick, nigga) Bitch
Father's Day was the worst when
It came to gifts
'Cause I ain't know for who or
What the fuck to get
Now, my mama mentioned the day
Before what she would like
'Cause she's playin' both roles, like
Her occupation was dyke, fucking right
I ain't look up to Obama and Nixon (Nope)
I look up to the Hugos and Dixons (Yup)
The niggas in the vision
Rap about the shit they
Cooking in the kitchen pushing keys
Like them niggas that were
Banging on them keys
My father never seen me
The nigga probably Stevie
He bought me a hoodie, a couple albums
Like that's gonna make up for
The years and the tears
And the money that my mama
Spent on rent and clothes
You fucking dipped out, I swear to God
If I see you I'ma get out
The M-16 and let a fucking clip out (RAH)
'Cause in 16 years, you let
Your kid doubt the existence, none
I don't give a fuck either
Like father, like son, i'm done
He ain't give a fuck about me
He ain't give a fuck about you
He ain't give a fuck about we
So what the fuck we gon' do?
(Fuck you) I'm good (Fuck you) I graduated
(Without you) I'm good (Fuck you) I'm good
(Nigga, eighteen) I'm good
(Fuck you) I'm good
(Got a car, nigga) Fuck you
(Eat a dick, nigga) Bitch
The cold is nice
And I'm not talking 'bout the weather
The skin is thick, no need for leather
Your father called
He said you're better without him
I'm not the only fuck without them
How to tie a tie and how
To get your suit hemmed
Up, take it to the shop, then, what?
Fuck it, momma's proud of her asthmatic
Thin fuck
Luck on my brim, Sup-preme keeps me warm
When the cold blood swarms in my veins
Fuck rain in the summer
The bummer is the fact that I'm black
And I hang with white Neos
Whose marrow stays frío
Now, this counselor is tryna tell
Me that I'm emo she don't give a fuck
D-low, where's the trigger? I'll let
This bullet play hero shit
No, no, fuck that fuck that
I ain't deserve this i'm over it
Bang!