I'd tell him to eat a dick quicker than Mexicans sprint over borders I give a f*ck like a quarter with 20 cent At Hamptons with Fred Hampton relaxing at Happy Camper It's the fucking financial aid at Hamptons wasn't relaxing, I'm taxing "F*ck 'em all!"'s what I'm chanting, don't complain I'm just ranting F*ck ranking, I'm the best, I'm the champion's chariot I'm a liar like Carrey in "Liar, Liar" I'm dirtier than the sheets in the Marriott, Cable guy like Larry Peter Pan in my youth, fucking fairies I'm using my tooth bait to get that bitches teeth paste F*ck it, Odd Future some Nazis, black Nazis don't copy We perfect, you sloppy, hotter than Saki Takei F*ck a label on my jacket, screw you like a ratchet Screw you like a black teen on Judge Hatchett Hang with thrashers and jackers Drug dealers and crackers, AP students and slackers I'm backwards like Jermaine Dupri in '93 Escaping from concentration camps with a fucking girl board and a ramp That I ordered from CCS with some diamonds that's VVS Like I went to Sierra Leone in a homecoming dress With some matching pink panties, lipstick from my granny Sup on my hat like that motherfucker friendly White, red-headed bitch reminded me of Annie She dino like my state of mind, so yeah she understand me F*ck You Bunch is here, never disrespect my family That’s for my little brother, sister, cousin and my auntie Wasted fucking youth? All you old niggas antiques We go skate, rape sluts and eat donuts from Randy Bitches like Tia Landry watching Billy and Mandy Motherfuckers wanna be Odd but you can't be Sit the f*ck down all you old niggas stand me, faggot I guess I got to be a fucking hand-me-down rapper From Los Angee area anytime I'm fucking landing F*ck 2DopeBoyz and NahRight, shout out to Hype Track Them motherfuckers could never get rid of me Guess I gotta do a fucking song with Dom Kennedy Get these fucking hip hop bloggers to start feeling me Because I'm seventeen, compose my own beats Lyrically I'm dope enough to ass-f*ck the dude who made nicotine Maybe I should buy some Hundreds, wear some fucking skinny jeans And follow in your footsteps like a motherfucking millipede Centipede, make songs about Gucci and ciggaweed Jerk with my freshmen like it's some motherfucking little league No I'm not no fucking hipster, mister No I'm not no fucking Kid Cudi, all my fucking fans love me Collaboration hits for fans screaming f*ck buddies, yo, yo I'm driving in a stolen truck, and I'm probably fucking drunk Wasted as f*ck, can't walk it out, DJ Unk My nose is filled with coke and my license is revoked (Shut the f*ck up!) Who the f*ck told me not to spoke? F*ck everybody here, everybody vanished, I'm managed Hop off my dick and make a fucking sandwich Everybody listening can suck my dick in Spanish F*ck you, faggot (fucking bastard) Yeah, um, as you can probably tell from listening to this record I was, I was probably angry, probably on my period But um, I didn’t mean to offend anyone, alright, I'm lying, OF
Written by: Tyler Okonma
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Seven Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 25 Sep. 2022. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/22401238/Tyler%2C+the+Creator/Seven>.