Текст на песента

[Verse 1]

Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla

She tryna get her groove back like Stella, grab the umbrella

When it comes to your perception of my shit, I'm Helen Keller

When it comes to the perfection of my shit, I know you smell the

Rectum, I'm like a chromosome I always X them

Like Wolverine stepson attacking a deadly weapon

I'm opening a church to sell coke and Led Zeppelin

And fuck Mary in her ass..

Yo, I'm fucking Goldilocks up in the forest

In the three bear house eating their mothafuckin' porridge

I tell her it's my house, give her a tour

In my basement, and keep that bitch locked up in my storage

Rape her and record it, then edit it with more shit

Octopussy special effect the wet bitches be banging

And please never disrespect my set

With Canons hanging from our necks like it's a mothafuckin' circus


You little niggas better check my French

You getting money? Better check my French

What time is it, huh? Check my French

If you got my shit you better check my French

I'm making moves, check my French

I speak English but check my French

Your ho be on my penis, she check my French, bitch

[Verse 2]

I guess I left my dignity up in the cupboard, cause every girl I'm digging

When I'm digging in her pussy, I'm never using a rubber

But fuck it, I guess I got to stretch it out like it was flubber

And leave it dripping green and red like double cheese buggers

Chewing on cum like bubble gum from Hubba

This bitch knew dick like Bubba knew shrimp, yeah

Yo, I'm seventeen, already sniffing blow

I tell my friends it's asthma every time I start to itch my throat

I got a new show for MTV, "Pimp My Boat"

Because some bitch said my semen was dirty, that's silly ho

The most that they can do is find me, I'm hiding

Somewhere where Chris Stokes can't find me

Oh no, Mr. Stokes, I don't like misters, no

Don't tell R. Kelly where my little sister go


[Verse 3: Hodgy]

Yo, you little niggas better check my French

I got all stars and you can check my bench

Left Brain, Super 3, Creator Ace

Put expressions in their music and create the face

Of the picture punchline figured out, ahh I get you

No you don't nigga so why don't you go and figure

You seem confused anyway, pressured enough?

You the type of dude that choke when the pressure is up

The pressure is the pump and the pressure is us

Bitches having eargasms and the pleasure is us

Niggas wanna be O.F. and write letters to us

Competition's competition, yo you better than us?

Digest what I'm saying? I don't think so

We sick shit, throw it up down in the sink, yo

The Odd niggas are beginning to spill these pink hoes

We think sorta odd so we think so


Crusing in my go kart at Walmart selling cupcakes

Go ahead admit it faggot, this shit is tighter than butt rape

That involve ballpark franks and silver duct tape

Pornos and hormones and boxes of DiGiorno

You homos is loco you're probably drinking Cuervo

With some vatos with the door closed watching Zorro, you homos

Tyler, The Creator - French – текст

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