Tyler, The Creator - Leather Head lyrics
Tyler, The Creator [Tyler Gregory Okonma] Hawthorne, California, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Tyler, The Creator - Leather Head lyrics]
I'm not fucking crazy, fucking crazy
Wolf Gang, Wolf Gang
Okay, it's my turn to rap (Do that)
Fucking modern day Ian Curtis I oughta been
The motherfuckin' bulls was hotter
Than a Dennis Rod-a-Man
All the men and girls was tied
Up inside a cottage and
Raquel, Riley, Brandun, Alexis
Fuckin' Milan and them house’s egg yolking
Motherfuckin' ain’t joking
Throats chokin' hulkin that motherfuckers
Like I’m Hulk Hogan
Halloween at Neverland Ranch?
I’m Macaulay Culkin
Fuckin' Superbad swag when I
Murder Seth Rogen
I’m sick, this asthma, takin' 6 Robitussin
I’m fuckin' this game up no
Trojans for the semen
On the boat, better vote and fuckin' pray
Even though the pope is bogus
Even though I’m hyped the dopest
2Dope don’t wanna post us
Copy all we are off how we all are rockin
And they kosher but don’t trip
My pockets got a loaf of that
I’ll show you how you’re supposed to rap
Yeah, for the blonde bitches
They say they enjoy the vision
I’m the man now the boys
Missin' from the decision
My television is eclectic
How can he move on Waka Flocka
And back to Joy Division?
Yeah, I said that I received info
Now the surgeon is missing
Probably cause I dressed up as a nurse
Went it to his office
Gave him his cup of coffee
Aw, now he is feeling nauseous
Buzzin' me to walk in
Takin’ all the doctor calls
Ask her to prescribe
A bunch of shit that he can munch and such
He asked what was in the coffee
I just coughed a blush whatchu say?
(Hey! Wait, your not! WHAT THE FUCK)
Hit him with the uppercut then cut him up
With the roughest tools
And I found out the wolves had
Aten some sections of ugly sluts
Fuck! Now I got blood on my
New fuckin' sneakers and stuff fuck it
Storage room where this doctor's
Getting his body stuffed
By this fuckin' awesome
Thrashin' African that’s marvelous
With green supreme hats, smoker’s head
It was a pot of luck
I love Taylor Swift, Date Rape Sirloin
In a wife beater with a Chris Brown iron-on
Bitch, I’m tighter than a
Stogie and a lighter
The cuts thats on Taylor or the
Braces when I bite her
After that I will retain her
From leaving gaps and gashes
When I brush her with the
Rubber bands leaving gummy rashes
Laughing Gas, Pass her out, fool beat this
Cause I’ll do to her what
My father didn’t really give
And that’s not hard to figure out
But just in case it is
I’ll make it really hard to get it out
If you catch my drift wolf, Gang fuck