Tyler, The Creator - Raw Freestyle lyrics
Tyler, The Creator [Tyler Gregory Okonma] Hawthorne, California, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Tyler, The Creator - Raw Freestyle lyrics]
Yeah, yeah uh, they fuck
Uh, yeah they ask me if I'm Tyler, the nasty
Nigga that used to be in
Seventh grade watching Degrassi
But yall niggas and your whips
With your rims and
Your hat with the brims rolling right past me
But I could give a fuck
Less about what you doing
Who you screwing, who you booing
I got these bitches brewing in my gold pots
You could see the Rolex, the gold watch
See them gold but you won't stop
I'm in that bape shit
Or that bathing ape shit
That shit that make you my
Superman hoodie is cape shit
You on that fake shit, that
True religion, abercrombie, 'postale
Nigga my t-shirt is pastel
My nigga I pass well well passed
And I pass that fucking class well
And when your bitch see me, she be
Like "Oh my gosh, your so
Man you're so swell"
Like I'm so swole, this bape shit is so old
Older than the ice cream shoes
I have that's growing mold
And they say "Ace, you're genius" I
Say "I play piano, make songs, a big penis"
Cause when I have 2, listen to Neptune
Shit, I'm never Mars or Venus, you seen this
My 3D glasses still the cleanest, enis, anus
Nigga you could paint this is
A mutha fucking bush
All you niggas running but I'm still not
In a rush and I'm winning
No races, but I'm grinning
Don't believe in God, but I'm sinning
He man and she man and he man confused than
Yall want the rims
But I'm still chilling in the
Mutha fucking mini-van like
What it do, what it do, fuck you
And your crew, OF to the death, nah
Yall know I do bail, yall rep yall set
Until the death nigga this OF until, until
And nigga thats real, and nigga I'm raw
I'm bigger than my boss the cold
86 degrees heat on need
With your bitch screaming out my
Name gagging on her knees
And nigga I'm reed
Eating mutha fucking ice cream reese's pieces
Nigga I'm the I'm the shit
You could call me Ace, the Creator AKA feces
I'm eating like a feces
What the fuck is my problem!
I'm a let this one ride out tho
I'm a let the keys fuck with the drums
ACE, OFM, Bangin' on your FM, yes
It was all a dream, now
I got my own magazine, word up
I'm out, peace
Uh, yeah they ask me if I'm Tyler, the nasty
Nigga that used to be in
Seventh grade watching Degrassi
But yall niggas and your whips
With your rims and
Your hat with the brims rolling right past me
But I could give a fuck
Less about what you doing
Who you screwing, who you booing
I got these bitches brewing in my gold pots
You could see the Rolex, the gold watch
See them gold but you won't stop
I'm in that bape shit
Or that bathing ape shit
That shit that make you my
Superman hoodie is cape shit
You on that fake shit, that
True religion, abercrombie, 'postale
Nigga my t-shirt is pastel
My nigga I pass well well passed
And I pass that fucking class well
And when your bitch see me, she be
Like "Oh my gosh, your so
Man you're so swell"
Like I'm so swole, this bape shit is so old
Older than the ice cream shoes
I have that's growing mold
And they say "Ace, you're genius" I
Say "I play piano, make songs, a big penis"
Cause when I have 2, listen to Neptune
Shit, I'm never Mars or Venus, you seen this
My 3D glasses still the cleanest, enis, anus
Nigga you could paint this is
A mutha fucking bush
All you niggas running but I'm still not
In a rush and I'm winning
No races, but I'm grinning
Don't believe in God, but I'm sinning
He man and she man and he man confused than
Yall want the rims
But I'm still chilling in the
Mutha fucking mini-van like
What it do, what it do, fuck you
And your crew, OF to the death, nah
Yall know I do bail, yall rep yall set
Until the death nigga this OF until, until
And nigga thats real, and nigga I'm raw
I'm bigger than my boss the cold
86 degrees heat on need
With your bitch screaming out my
Name gagging on her knees
And nigga I'm reed
Eating mutha fucking ice cream reese's pieces
Nigga I'm the I'm the shit
You could call me Ace, the Creator AKA feces
I'm eating like a feces
What the fuck is my problem!
I'm a let this one ride out tho
I'm a let the keys fuck with the drums
ACE, OFM, Bangin' on your FM, yes
It was all a dream, now
I got my own magazine, word up
I'm out, peace