Artist: Tyler, the Creator f/ Hodgy Beats Album: Bastard Song: French! Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash [Tyler, the Creator] Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla She tryin to 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 attackin a deadly weapon I'm openin a church to sell coke and Led Zeppelin and fuck Mary in her ass... hehehe, yo~! I'm fucking Goldilocks up in the forest in the three bear house eating they motherfuckin 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 bangin and please never disrespect my set with Canons hangin from our necks like it's a motherfuckin circus [Chorus] You little niggaz better check my French You getting money better check my French What time is it, huh? Check my French If you cop my shit you better check my French I'm makin moves, check my French I speak English but check my French Your hoe be on my penis, she check my French Bitch [Tyler, the Creator] I guess I left my dignity up in the cupboard, cause every girl I'm diggin when I'm diggin 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 drippin green and red like double cheeseburgers Chewin on cum like bubble gum from Hubba This bitch knew dick like Bubba knew shrimp, yeah ... Yo I'm seventeen, already sniffin 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 hoe 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 [Chorus] [Hodgy Beats] Yo; you little niggaz better check my French I got all stars and you can check my bench Left Brain, Super 3, Creator Ace Put expressions in the 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 Bitche having eargasms and the pleasure is us Niggaz wanna be O.F. and write letters to us Competition's competition, yo you better than us? Digest what I'm sayin? I don't think so We sick shit, throw it up down in the sink yo The +Odd+ niggaz are beginnin to spill these pink notes We think sorta +Odd+, so we think so [Tyler, the Creator] Crusin in my go kart at Walmart sellin 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 probably drinkin Cuervo with some vatos with the door closed watching Zorro You homos... O.F., yes {So are you dating anyone right now? Y'know} No I'm just, playing the field, for right now {Ahh so, I'm guessing she's white since, she's a vanilla}