Artist: Tyler, the Creator Album: Cult Shit free single Song: Cult Shit Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com * Tyler spits over Madlib's "Stepping Into Tomorrow" instrumental [Tyler, the Creator] I'm recordin this shit on the fuckin little mic by the little, camera thing on the fuckin Macbook so... This shit is choppy and bad quality, but fuck it Wolf Gang, Ace Creator.. Somebody tell Justin Beiber that I'm fuckin comin Ain't no point in runnin, I'm an eager, just a little queeger So I catch him stretchin, have him guessin where his cracker throat Chop his balls off and use his skin to make a baby coat Ain't he dope? No, (OH!) he the same as shit that Tyler wrote This is Ace, Wolf is in the back with Travis snortin coke Riley's here, Connie's dead, pickin pussy pissin pike She won't leave, dick as big as Kelly Price's appetite Apprehend a couple men, triple six is fuckin sin Make Queen Latifah and Sydney go slap a couple dykes Wrap around until they hit the ground and they hear a sound that doesn't make sense like nigger kids wearin cap and gowns This my album, and when your parents try to come around Do the FUCKIN' exact opposite of turnin it down And when they try to get parental and start talkin loud Tell 'em that you're from the WOLF GANG and you're fuckin proud Then start barkin loud (AH!) 'til the neighbors wanna calm you down But call the pigs who prol'ly come near in 'bout a half an hour Tell them that you're sorry, you're a cow, took a fuckin shower But make it in time for shitty re-runs of Rocket Power (okay) This is the shit that is makin me cynical The clinical attempts at schizophrenia's critical Fuckin voices follow me, emulatin like Twitter roll O.F. is the coldest thing, and I'm the fuckin general So when I mention suicide, I'm bein Mr. Literal Then poke inside nine capsules, FUCK it let's split a roll Life is like a phone booth, these pigeons is the fuckin toll 1-800-FUCK-THIS-SHIT... Seven years old in my heart, so I'm stayin gold But when I fuckin' go, Lucifer will prol'ly have my soul It's hot down there - FUCK that, bitch I'm hot as coals Out the microwave, mixed with a bowl of yellow raviol' Yellow firetruck and Arizona during summertime in a turtle neck, thermal jeans, spin purple wine Wolf Gang 'petein, gon' live, runnin outta time ..The fuck I give is the same as the next line {*two bars length of silence*} (FUCK EVERYTHING) That's what my conscience said Then it bunny-hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead Now the only guidance that I had is splattered on cement Actions speak louder than words, let me try this shit...