Skut lyrics


Tyler, The Creator

So many good reviews off of bast*rd
I celebrated, getting masturbated by my pastor
Now he's in a plastic, on the kitchen table
Near a bowl of Lucky Charms and the newest Thrasher

[Verse 1]
When I say Wolf Gang, you say f*ck that
Room full of wolves, inhalers and used blunt wraps
Fingers in the middle of b*tches bodacious butt cracks
Enough f*cking atheist rappers to get a nun slapped
Um, that's not a potato, give me my gun back
Before I blast bigger than pimples on Big Pun's back
Black fat b*tches was washin' on my dishes
And using my large stick on her lips like my c*m's chapped
I love Jews but I hatе faggots
And b*tches who be nagging about me taking thе trash out
I got a f*ckin' can of whoop ass, who wants to pack it
Going ape sh*t in the newest bape straight jacket
With six di*ks of chap stick, sticking in my black lips
Six sippie cups full of sick sh*t enhancements
Wolf Gang spit right
Ain't been this much f*ckin' crack rock music since free way had flip side
So get low, lower than a ditch
I'm with some retarded b*tch, hoping she know how to kiss low
They know, I'm the clinic's aid and I'm sick
So they clap for me kinda like a herpe on the lip
With some tutor b*tch, tryna tickle wetback hooter this
b*tch acting I still did not know with it
Until I put this c*ck on, the end of clitoris
f*cking this game, I used this sh*t as spit as lubricant
So who you with? (Umm, f*ck)
I got this f*ckin' gun, you better say yes you stupid b*tch
Before you lose your wrist and rich make you do some di*k
I'm f*cking crazy, well I guess I am if these shoes will fit
f*ck the Key club, they wanna ban 'em
I got f*cking fans from Compton to Montana
To Indiana, where deaf dwarfs still don't understand 'em
Because yelling at midgets is like me beefing with brandUn (f*ck him)
Stomp 'em out, with these crab ass Nikes
Make it look like some slob, scribbled all on his white Tee
Invite me, come on, you got a better chance to getting Shake
My dad and Earl's motherf*ckin' momma to like me (b*tch)
Animals is farming you, patrick this is barnacles
Said he gave Ace a spongejob at the carnival
And Spongebob got his head knocked from the p*ss that Ace got
n*gga's soft as baby c*ck and the cotton swab
[Verse 2]
This that f*ck music, put your sh*t and f*ck to it
Shouldn't give one when your bumping in the trunk to it
Grab a couple gats, stuff 'em in your backpack and then take 'em to school
For show and tell day screamin' "f*ck students"
Locate the b*tch that didn't wanna give you kiss
Then get her tits, then use your fists to add a couple lumps to it
Shoot the faculty for taking hats, you stupid butts
Skip the music teacher and the janitor you real cool with
Continue this procedure until lunch is through with
Go home out the back like a scared student
Keep a low pro, until you on your block
Then you just make it home in time for new news brief at 2ish
Stuck at all this bible study, sh*t is not fun
Me and wolf gang go jump nuns for hot fun
Playing with the bell when shots heard, and cops come
But I'm still punchin' this b*tch out, I'm not done
Sittin' in my room masturbating
Truthful, these lyrics are relating like my dad did
I make music for teenagers and bad ass kids
bast*rd touched more boys than your local church did
Killing these n*ggas off quick
Don't believe me then watch me empty out a full clip
Trigger being pulled, n*ggers in a ditch
That wasn't bullets, that was copies of bast*rd you b*tch
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