Split / Whole Time lyrics

by

Tyler, The Creator


[Part I: Split]

[Intro]
Sippin' the peach soda
Them n*ggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over (Frrp)
Sippin' the peach soda
Them n*ggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over (Frrp)
Sippin' the peach soda
Them n*ggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over
I'ma rap 'til the beat is over
Two Chanel bags, the same price as my mink sofa
And I move like the king cobra
Slimin' them out, dawg, I didn't have to think it over
(Earl on the beat)
Frrp

[Verse 1]
Sippin' the peach soda
Them n*ggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over (Uh)
I'ma rap 'til the beat is over (Uh)
Two Chanel bags, the same price as my mink sofa (Go)
And I move like the king cobra (Go)
Slimin' them out, dawg, I didn't have to think it over (Slatt)
This lil' b*tch, I'ma bend her over
After I'm done, call the gang, I'ma send her over (Gang)
I'm in tune with the UPS (Yeah)
Waitin' on packages, KPreme gon' do the rest
Got some b*tches in Budapest
Strapped with them Ks, they walk around wearin' bullet vests (Ooh, frrp)
I need you to do more but speak less
Youngins gon' open, uh
Youngins gon' open 'em up like some Mucinex (Go)
Give me top, baby, keep the sex (Go)
My di*k get bigger when I see a money check
Used to didn't have a hundred bands (Beep)
Now I'm outside with the gang doin' the money dance
I'm in rush hour, roadrunnin' (Mm)
I'm in rush hour, roadrunnin' like Jackie Chan
My big brother was beatin' pans (Beat it)
Lil' brother psyched out, he might go shoot your mans (Buh, buh, beep)
Sunday through Sunday (Sunday)
I got them b*tches comin' on the runway (On the runway)
f*ck with the feng shui (f*ck with)
Break a b*tch back like the wood with a sensei
f*ck did that n*gga say? (f*ck 'em)
You wasn't 'round at the gym back at Lindley
(Beep) Split
[Part II: Whole Time]

[Intro]
Yeah
Uh-huh (Told my slime Earl, hold it, uh)
Yeah (Hold that sh*t down and they gon' see it)
Uh-huh (You gon' see it and now he see it)
(Really held it down)
Uh-huh (Feel me?)
Uh-huh (For real), uh-huh, uh-huh

[Verse 2]
(Beep) Look (Go)
I'm hated the most, I don't give a damn (Go)
I used to swipe, finesse through the Skype
Through the night, I would eat on the Grand Slam (Swipe)
Don't be like me, I'm a millionaire
Still ridin' dirty 'round town like Chamillionaire (Don't be like me, woo)
These n*ggas softer than Build-A-Bear
Penthouse, then make her eat with no silverware (sh*t, ayy, f*ck, for real)
I'm crackin' this b*tch like some software (Go)
I got her boyfriend on my crosshair
He talkin' down (Phew), go the sound
I'm in New York, need a loft here (Damn)
b*tch, I'm a motherf*ckin' boss here (Damn)
No, ain't no n*gga soft here (f*ck 'em)
My n*ggas down, they came from the town (Phew)
They let it off here (Slatt)
Audemars Piguet, ice me (Ice)
Where I be f*ckin' this Pisces?
She wanna beat up a wifey (She was down)
I like the baguettes, I like these emeralds
Damn, them sh*ts look like a icy (Ice)
Different in school, check out the IQ
I made more guap than the IT (sh*t, yeah)
[Chorus]
Nah, whole time n*ggas hold sh*t down (Frrt, frrt, hold it down)
Yeah, whole time n*ggas never lied, n*ggas keep a hundred rounds (Whole time, frrt)
Yeah, home alone, n*gga run up on me, do 'em like Macaulay Culkin (sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, yeah)
Two-fifty for the Bentley coupe, I ain't drivin', leave it parkin' (Fif')

[Verse 3]
Lot of my choices was dumb sh*t
Gang pull up on the block and they dump sh*t
My n*ggas got red on their head
Red on their head on some Trump sh*t (Brrt)
I'm swervin' the 'Burban down Highland (Skrrt)
Swervin' the whip on some drunk sh*t (Swerve)
I'm not a fighter at all
But I stomp his head, wanted him dead (Prrt, prrt, prrt)
Won't get a foot in my conscience (Poh)
These b*tches hang 'round for the content (b*tch)
It took me way outta context (Oh)
My youngin' gon' blow like a Semtex (sh*t, beep)
Ill everywhere like some Germ-X (Yee)
Just tell my n*gga his turn next (God)
Burn that sh*t down
Don't play with me, b*tch, I'ma burn up (Burn)
Yeah (Burn), young n*gga, earn that (Brrt)
Don't speak on no sh*t you don't know about
Before you speak on it, go learn that
sh*t, sh*t, yeah (sh*t)
For real, keepin' this sh*t for real (Beep)
Three in the two like Shaquille
I don't even know how to feel (Yeah, beep)
[Chorus]
Nah, whole time n*ggas hold sh*t down (Frrt, frrt, hold it down)
Yeah, whole time n*ggas never lied, n*ggas keep a hundreds rounds (Whole time, frrt)
Yeah, home alone, n*gga run up on me, do 'em like Macaulay Caulkin (sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, yeah)
Two-fifty for the Bentley coupe, I ain't drive it, leave it parkin' (Fif')

[Outro]
Frrt, frrt (Go)
Frrt, frrt
Frrt, frrt
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net