Artist: Tyler, the Creator f/ Domo Genesis, Earl Sweatshirt Album: Wolf Song: Rusty Typed by: AZ Lyrics [Intro] I'm saying, you know, like All I ever told you to do was grow up, don't grow down You know, like, you know, grow up! Don't grow down, grow out You go from being a kid, doing your thing, hanging out with friends Months later you're world famous You're a gay rights activist, and you don't even know it You know what, I don't wanna say it to you no more, Tyler Fuck you Tyler! [Domo Genesis] Watch me get this money nigga, tired of being hungry nigga Nothing funny, sass me while I'm thrashing, I'mma punch a nigga Never made of plastic, I'm a savage, you look lunch my nigga Passing all you hating fucking fags we don't discuss, my nigga We ain't on no jolly shit and we don't pop no mollies, bitch I'm hockin', spitting got some niggas out here poppin' ollie switch Buncha novices, Odd Future the squad, its thick Them young niggas is back and brash, attacking with no common sense We the last of a dying breed And we don't give a fuck, so we cannot supply your needs You stupid niggas who had said our hype is dying, please My pocket's solid, making profit off the highest tees Bitch, [?] twerk as I get on the verse, cursin Nigga Dom so cool, I refer him in third person Watch me get this money, I'm up when the bird's chirpin Make actions, fuck rehearsing [Chorus 2X: Domo Genesis] Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time, 24/365 You niggas gon' give me mine, I don't have plenty time Flying out at any time, getting money, any grind You niggas gon' give me mine, you niggas gon' give me mine [Tyler, the Creator] In a world where kids my age are popping mollies with leather Sitting on Tumblr, never outside or enjoying the weather Can name a sweater, but not a talent or don't know if whether Or not they got one, tried to change their life for the better I was a drama club kid, I'd run with a fun dip, my nuts itched I was defiant, always said, "Fuck shit" Hated the popular ones, now I'm the popular one Also hated homes too, til I start coppin' me some See I don't beez in the trap, nigga, I beez in the b's And I be gassin' in my buzz like some bees in a Shell Fucking sick and getting bigger like I sneezed on Adele And bitches getting touchy-feely like they reading some braille I bust quick like gun-holders with short tempers, and well I tried to tell the kids, like fuck it, start being yourself These fucking rappers got stylist, it's cause they can't think for themselves See, they don't have an identity, so they needed some help, but Really, boy? Posers looking silly boy I'm in that past season 'Preme shit, older than Tity Boi Not a diss, but same with ice cream, my shit is (Diddy Riese) Na'kel Smith. Transworld page 64 Poppin' like oil, ollies, and fire flames I'm harder than DJ Khaled playing the fucking quiet game The fuck am I saying? Tyler's not even a violent name I'm 'bout as threatening as stained windbreakers in hurricanes But he rapes women, and spit wrong, like he hate dentists God damn menace, 666 and he's not finished And my shit's missing, he hates women, but loves kittens See y'all niggas trippin' man Look at that article that says my subject matter is wrong Saying I hate gays even though Frank is on 10 of my songs Look at that Mom who thinks I'm evil, hold that grudge against me Though I'm the reason that her motherfucking son got to eat Look at the kid who had the 9 and tried to blow out his mind But talk is money, I said, "Hi," I guess I bought him some time Look at the ones in the crowd. That shit is barnacles, huh? They thought I wasn't fair until I threw a carnival, huh? But then again, I'm an athiest that just worships Satan And it's probably why I'm not getting no fucking album placements And MTV could suck my dick, and I ain't fuckin' playing Bruh, they never played it, I just won shit for their fucking ratings "Analog" fans are getting sick of the rape All the "Tron Cat" fans are getting sick of the lakes But what about me, bitch? I'm getting sick of complaints But I don't hate it when I'm taking daily trips to the bank Over and over, shit, who gives a fuck what I think? My fans don't think turning on me, shit, they're almost extinct Fuck buying studio time. I'mma go purchase a shrink Record the session and send all you motherfuckers a link, bitch [Chorus] [Earl Sweatshirt] This shit just like the nights I look forward to not remembering So much for being sober, I hope that you can forgive me But Momma, I'm close to the edge as possible (Why don't you jump you fucking pussy?) I'm seeing it's a drop in my occular, jumping like they told me That the 40's half off, like you know that cliff Don't need a therapist to tell him he could float that shit (Fucking faggot) Or get compared to fucking pair with all the program kids So maybe a pair of pale bitches for the gonads lick (I'll show you) Malt liquor filling me up, and all us not giving no fucks and All of them sensitive chumps in awe when that pistol erupts (Pistol, I got one!) Dirty one spitting that sumpy raw till his wrists in the cuffs (Oh, shut the fuck up!) [Gunshot] [Outro: Sam] Samuel's here! Where's Wolf? Fucking faggot Salem was mine, bitch! Was that good enough, you fucking pussy?