Potato Salad lyrics

by

Tyler, The Creator


[Intro: Tyler, The Creator]
Yo, now you gon' start me from the top? Listen
Shout out Harlem, man
Shout out A$AP Rocky, man
AWGE in the building, man
What's good? Is that potato salad?
Yo, listen

[Verse 1: Tyler, The Creator]
n*ggas give me the cold shoulder, I can speak for myself
So I keep a high waist and alligator the belt
And got a belt with the holster, I ain't playing games
But got some lil' n*ggas who would do it so I pass the controller
You get pressed and X out, tri-angle your nose
Pause your life if you squares try to mess with my O's, whoa
So cut the crap like sh*t barbers
'Cause we really with the beef like closeted gay fathers
n*gga we get dollars, give 'em to Ben Baller
Exchange for them chains that's all shiny with thick water
I got back pains, neck heavy like whipped cream
My whip clean, and they all white, I whip cream
And cop boys and I joystick, I whip cream and cop cribs
I got more space than big jeans, y'all sleeping on me
Explain why they got sh*t dreams
I'm alien, got the laser gun with the big beam
Married to the money, my b*tch green
No I don't sip lean, but ride around in rockets like Yao Ming
Y'all n*ggas weak
They thought I was goofy and all mouses
Double C my luggage and fill them with Comme blouses
Y'all cop kush, my n*gga I cop houses
And fill 'em with some Leo DiCap's and some Cole Sprouses, n*gga
Where we? Rocky, A$AP
GOLF, boy, where we at? n*gga in Paris
[Verse 2: A$AP Rocky]
f*ck clothes, I cop pieces
Couple thots with me and them hoes is like divas
Got my Vans on but they look like sneakers
Flipped a couple packs, BasedGod in the speakers
Bass all in the speakers
In the field like baseball, play ball, face wall when polices come
I don't rock Chanel, I rock channel
And no this ain't a purse, it's a satchel (At you)
Bless, at you, nah, I ain't sneeze
But if n*ggas want steam or smoke, bet I match you
Got a bullet with your name on the barrel
If hollows don't clip, you get nip like it's cat food
That dude, when I die, they gotta make a statue
Bad attitude, this ain't a purse, it's a satchel
Go to any n*gga with money up in my bracket
Then I think about the state of rapping
All the freshmens in the classes
All the super seniors' mumblin' and ramblin'
Mumblin' and rappin', mumble rapping?
I find it hard to find actual talent
I find it hard to find an actual challenge
I'm like Shabazz Palace's last acid hit, elaborate
Rap lab's labyrinth, word to Kodak's Black's Lazarus
"CALLDROPS" on the album skits
[Verse 3: Tyler, The Creator]
Ayo, I'm the channel that you watch, I'm the ammo in the Glock
Weird n*gga, full suit with the sandals and the socks, stop
And based on my neck boy
You would think I hate glass homes way I'm handling the rocks
Who cast the first stone? b*tch, it's me, f*ck you thought?
Real grunge n*gga, I ain't got a flannel as the top
And I'm picking up guitar, strum n*gga
Bum n*ggas wish they could make a garden shed
But they sleeping on me man like their arm is dead
I'm a wild n*gga boy and you farmer bred, born
You ain't animal, you are, corn, hahaha, yeah!

[Outro: Tyler, The Creator]
K shiz, what up, n*gga!
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