Earl Sweatshirt - Couch lyrics

Uh, was always smartmouthed and quick-witted But somethin' was always missin' like six digits Lucky seven probably poppa Little n***a so they picked on him, ha**led him Things changed when I ha**led back, so David hit the pavement with this grapple rap Snapple fact: you rather wack While I am poppin' like a snappin' crack So high you could see like Tallaha**, the opposite of cataracts Matter fact I am Farmer John milkin' cattle tracks Action packed nipple squeezin', boy colder than sniffle season Simple genius, go hard and spit bits of semen So when the street is split, don't act surprised, agree with it The Gang of Wolves and creeps and Crips Is deep as Dawson's Creek and sh** I pray they got gills either that or grab some floaties I know I got sk**s, why you think I'm posted boastin' Braggin' tell these f*ggots to stop naggin' Cause them Wolf Gang n***as threw them off the bandwagon like Uh, was always f**ed up and sh** witted But I didn't cross the line until the bridge hit it, troll I got you n***as nervous like virgins flirtin' with Uncle Mervin f**in' y'all with no lubricant, go grab the detergent I preach to demons at your church, now I'm the newest sermon Wearin' nothin' but they f**in' blast with the matchin' turban I drive through white suburbans in the black Suburban swervin' Hittin' curbs and blastin' Erick Sermon drunk off English Bourbon I'm stealin' purses rapin' nurses I'm a crooked surgeon And treat the beat like sanitized nazi pussies, I'm a German I'm squirtin' while I'm masturbatin' and regurgitatin' From eatin' Miley Cyrus salad p**y platter they were servin' My only purpose is to jerk it cause it has a curve So b**hes hate to do me like it's convict community service This my Zombie Circus, you better get a f**in' ticket Odd Future Wolf Gang like they're filmin' Twilight in this b**h I'm back on my sixty six sick sh** Flowin' like the blood out the competition's slit wrists She lick it up, Dracula, then spit it back, back at ya She mad as f**, stuck in the back of a black Acura Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her Hello Heather yellow feathers now you ain't laughin', huh b**h you're barely breathin' leavin' on the back of the boat While I fill you up with semen from the Wolf Gang team and Flowin' like the creampie inside of your daughter Oughta eat the b**h with salt and wash it down with a gallon of water I grab the saw and sawed her arm off and auctioned it And dip her teeth in gold molds and flossed the sh** f**in' awesome spittin' box of trees, got you n***as Shakin' like it's Parkinsons from the cli*oris of Kelly Clarkson's dick Ironin' you n***as now it's time to start some sh** Drown your b**h in a tub of cum and throw a shark in it Find a random abandoned garage and go to park in it Find Earl lying on the burgundy carpet, pull my knife out, sharpen it Stab him, put a arch on it, pour unleaded gas on him Get the Zippo and spark the sh** Hop back in the van and then depart the b**h k**ed him on his own track, the f*ggot shouldn't have started it