Текст на песента

[Verse 1 — Tyler, the Creator:]

They say I've calmed down since the last album

Well, lick my dick, how does that sound? (Umm)

Smell my gooch, you could kiss my buns

And I don't give a shit, bend my rectum

Somebody said bands make her dance

You think you're getting cash, no bitch, you're dumb

The only thing that you're gonna get is this dick

Wait turn this up, bitch, this my jam (Where the drums at?)

Here, take a goddamn picture

And tell Spike Lee he's a goddamn nigger

And while you're at it, pass the lotion

In fact, get an Xbox Live, that fun

Before I come, I'm calling your sister

When she comes over, I take picture

Instantly put it on Instagram and suplex her off a building if I get banned

(Just fuckin' around)

[Hook — Tallulah and Tyler, the Creator:]

Tamale! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!

Why y'all so salty,

Hot tamale is on,

Can of beans bitch I'm on

Your boy is bad to the bone

[Verse 2 — Tyler, the Creator:]

Bring back the horns that was played in the beginning

And tell Tony Parker that I found his vision

And if he's tripping off my sneak dissing

Then he has to deal with me and my minions

Tryna get a bimmer, E46

Have you heard 48, motherfucker I'm great

Golf Wang prints always cover the sleeves

From cuts from the Biebs, cause he's puffin' the trees, please

Fuck I look like? Got a new bike tire

Never popped like the pussy on a bitch dyke

Think I give a fuck, I do, I go balls

And I bust in her jaw like (Fuck that disease!)

My urethra, hole that I pee from

Bigger than an obese snack on Aretha

Now, turn that snare down

I'm back like I'm Rosa Parks fare on the same damn bus

Like "You're going to jail now!"


[Verse 3 — Tyler, the Creator:]

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?

If a woodchuck could ever give a fuck?

Bitch Suck Dick, motherfuck you and your opinions, (can you kick it?)

Yes I can sir,

Where the lump is sicker than the last bar,

Boulder on my seal, Colorado

Fuck Michael bitch, I'm badder than my B.O.

Find me a lunch, tryna dance during Kemo.

Before they repossess us, strong arms bands, and tuxedos.

[Hook 2 — Tallulah and Tyler, the Creator:]

Yeah buddy, this is my jam, na na na na na na na!

Golf wang, golf wang, go fuck you, na na na na na na!

Why y'all so salty,

Hot tamale is on

Can of beans bitch I'm on,

Your boy is bad to the bone

[Verse 4 — Tyler, the Creator:]

How many fags can a light bulb screw?

Well if I has a dick, they be two's and sixes, [?]

NRA bout to lose my shit,

Shoot through Wayne LaPierre's hair with a crucifix

How many ladies in the house?

How many ladies in the house without a rich nigga, huh?

A little Jergins in my palm for the jerkin'

Hope my mom don't catch me, tryna set mood

Little Redtube, fuck lotion, I don't need lube, dryfit suits me

Up and down, friction make a sound, shit's kind of disgusting

Fap time and before I flat line, Clancy chimes in my room and catch me

This shit's so damn embarrassing like...


[Wolf:] Oh shit, aw fuck.

[Clancy:] What the fuck!

[Wolf:] Aw, I'm sorry.

[Clancy:] Is that my shirt?

[Wolf:] Yeah sorry I needed something

[Clancy:] Clean that shit up, we're going to the office!

Tyler, The Creator - Tamale – текст

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