Tyler, The Creator - Rusty lyrics

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Tyler, The Creator - Rusty lyrics

Jason Dill: 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, just doing your thing, hanging out with your 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. f** you, Tyler! Domo Genesis: Watch me get this money, n***a, tired of being hungry, n***a Nothing funny, sa** me while I'm thrashing, I'mma punch you, n***a Never made of plastic, I'm a savage, you look lunch, my n***a Pa**ing all you hating f**ing f*gs we don't discuss, my n***a We ain't on no jolly sh** and we don't pop no mollies, b**h I'm hocking, spitting got some n***as out here popping Ollie switch Buncha novices, Odd Future the squad is thick Them young n***as is back and brash, attacking with no common sense We the last of a dying breed And we don't give a f**, so we cannot supply your needs You stupid n***as who had said our hype is dying, please My pockets solid, making profit off the highest tees b**h, merch twerk as I get on the verse, cursing n***a Dom so cool, I refer him in third person Watch me get this money, I'm up when the birds chirping Make actions, f** rehearsing n***a, summer, fall, wintertime, 24/365 You n***as gon' give me mine, I don't have plenty time Flying out at any time, getting money, any grind You n***as gon' give me mine, you n***as gon' give me mine Summer, fall, wintertime, 24/365 You n***as gon' give me mine, I don't have plenty time Flying out at any time, getting money, any grind You n***as gon' give me mine, you n***as 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 the drama club kid, I run where the fun did, my nuts itched I was defiant, always said, "f** sh**" 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, n***a, I beez in the B's And I be ga**ing up my buzz like some bees at a Shell f**ing sick and getting bigger like I sneezed on Adele And b**hes 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, "f** it, start being yourself" These f**ing rappers got stylists cause they can't think for themselves See, they don't have an identity, so they needed some help, but Really, boy? Poseurs looking silly, boy I'm in that past season 'Preme sh**, older than Tity Boi Not a diss, but same with ice cream, my sh** is Diddy Riese Na'kel Smith, Transworld page sixty-four Poppin' like oil ollie in fire flames I'm harder than DJ Khaled playing the f**ing quiet game The f** am I saying? Tyler's not even a violent name About as threatening as stained windbreakers in hurricanes But he rapes women, and spit wrong, like he hates dentists God damn menace, 666 and he's not finished And my sh**'s missing, he hates women, but love kittens See y'all n***as tripping, man Look at that article that says my subject matter is wrong Saying I hate gays even though Frank is on ten of my songs Look at that mom who thinks I'm evil, hold that grudge against me Though I'm the reason that her motherf**ing son got to eat Look at the kid who had the nine 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 sh** is barnacles, huh? They thought I wasn't fair until I threw a carnival, huh? But then again, I'm an atheist that just worships Satan And it's probably why I'm not getting no f**ing album placements And MTV could s** my dick, and I ain't f**in' playing Bruh, they never played it, I just won sh** for they f**ing ratings an*log fans are getting sick of the rape All the Tron Cat fans are getting sick of the lakes But what about me, b**h? I'm getting sick of complaints But I don't hate it when I'm taking daily trips to the bank Oh but no but, sh**, who really gives a f** what I think? My fans don't, they turning on me, sh**, they're almost extinct f** buying studio time, I'mma go purchase a shrink Record the session and send all you motherf**ers a link, b**h Domo Genesis: n***a, summer, fall, wintertime, 24/365 You n***as gon' give me mine, I don't have plenty time Flying out at any time, getting money, any grind You n***as gon' give me mine, you n***as gon' give me mine Summer, fall, wintertime, 24/365 You n***as gon' give me mine, I don't have plenty time Flying out at any time, getting money, any grind You n***as gon' give me mine, you n***as gon' give me mine Earl Sweatshirt and Tyler, The Creator: This sh** just like the nights I look forward to not remembering So much for being sober, I hope that you can forgive me But mama, I'm close to the edge as possible (Why don't you jump, you f**ing p**y?) All I'm seeing is the drop in my ocular, 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 sh** (f**ing f*ggot) Or get compared to f**ing pair with all the program kids So maybe a pair of pale b**hes for the gonads lick (I'll show you) Malt liquor filling me up, and all us not giving no f**s 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 Bid you good night (Oh, shut the f** up) Tyler, The Creator: Samuel's here Where's Wolf? f**ing f*ggot Salem was mine, b**h Was that good enough, you f**ing p**y?