Tyler, The Creator - Jack and the Beanstalk lyrics

They don't paint pictures, they just trace me

Odd Future, I'm your motherfucking sergeant
Nigga, I'm in charge, I fuck with Freshjive
'Cause I get it, no charge
And BBC for the low price, no barging
Nigga that's a bargain
Cow-print t-shirt like motherfucking dog
On the motherfucking farm
With cockadoodle doodles
I'm making straight bitches pussy wet
Just like a noodle and my dick must be dog
Food to these bitches' poodles
Felines on the free time
I'm tossing bitches' salads
And I'm eating up they croutons
Erica to Milan we was flying to Milan
Was supposed to go to Bangkok
Until she figured out that she don't
Really like to bang cock
To Soho, Baby Milo so dope
The cocaine flow, niggas spit heat, propane
Niggas get the picture, I see, why?
They don't paint pictures, they just trace me
My nigga, no hook, and
They don't, paint pictures
My nigga, no hook, and
They don't, paint pictures my nigga, no hook
They don't, paint pictures my nigga, no hook
They don't, paint pictures no hook
They don't, paint pictures fuck a hook, man
They don't, paint pictures fuck a hook
They don't, paint pictures, they just
Trace me

Yo, beside me, nobody likes me
Mainly because I am not a fucking HypeBeast
I think Supreme suck, we nollie all our Nikes
I can wear some Wranglers
With a fucking White T
Doo rags to match, and I do sag, in fact
My hat is in tact with the Fubu pull over
Nigga, you pull over, fuck a Rover Range
And I'm driving a unicorn
Plus my bitch is strange
And I'm the only fucking
Rapper without a chain
With a four-finger ring like I
Can't spell my fucking name
And I go to Obama
Rallies screaming out "McCain"
Them ignorant
Thrashing motherfuckers is my gang
And the dirty Ladera
I can't forget where I came from
Nigga, you don't claim none, from
I am the teacher white and black bitch like
She's a motherfucking zebra
Candies in my pocket
I see you niggas on Easter
My nigga, no hook, and
They don't, paint pictures
My nigga, no hook, and
They don't, paint pictures my nigga, no hook
They don't, paint pictures no hook, and
They don't, paint pictures no hook
They don't, paint pictures no hook
They don't, paint pictures no hook
They don't, paint pictures, they just
Trace me

(It's gold) The gold is in the back
(It's gold) The pixels in the front
(It's gold) The beat's a fucking bully
(Go home) The lyric's just a punk, and
(Gold) The pink is in the sky
(That shit's gold) The gold is in my mind
(It's gold) The mind is in my gold
The beat is turning old, so go (Yo yo)

(Gold) Synthesizer
I'm the mothafucking master
(It's gold) Nigga, I'm a bastard
I fuck with chord keys
(Gold) 'Cause the sound lasts longer
Bass drum is longer
(It's gold) Than a hi hat
Made of plastic, nigga, sound is elastic
(Gold) Nigga, you can't bite this
Unless you want to bite back
(It's gold) I didn't take my fucking Rit'lin
This is a hype track
(Gold) HypeTrak, that synth
Nigga this is sax shit
I had you motherfuckers eating salad
Like a fat bitch

Gold um
(Aight) uh
Drop it

Ace the Creator oFM
Banging on your FM ace the Creator
Drop the drums, nigga thank you to HypeBeast