seven lyrics – tyler, the creator

“seven”

i’d tell him to eat a d*ck quicker than mexicans sprint over borders
i give a f*ck like a quarter with 20 cent
at hamptons with fred hampton relaxin’ at happy camper
it’s the f*ckin’ financial aid at hamptons wasn’t relaxin’, i’m taxin’
“f*ck ’em all!” i’m chantin’, don’t complain i’m just rantin’
f*ck ranking, i’m the best, i’m the champion’s chariot
i’m a liar like carrey in “liar, liar”
i’m dirtier than the sheets in the marriott, cable guy like larry
peter pan in my youth, f*cking fairies
i’m using my tooth bait to get that b*tches teeth paste
f*ck it, odd future some n*z*s, black n*z*s don’t copy
we perfect, you sloppy, huddled and slightly tacky
f*ck a label on my jacket, screw you like a ratchet
screw you like a black teen on judge hatchett
endotherms and jaguars, drug dealers and crackers
able students and slackers
i’m backwards like jermaine dupri in ’93
escaping from concentration camps with a f*cking girl born in a ramp
that i ordered from ccs with some diamonds that’s vvs
like i went to sierra leone in a homecoming dress
with some matching pink panties, lipstick from my granny
sup on my hat like that motherf*cker frannie
white, red-headed b*tch reminded me of annie
she dyno like my state of mind, so yeah she understand me
f*ck you bunches here, never disrespect my family
that’s for my little brother, sister, cousin and my auntie
wasted f*ckin’ youth? all you old n*gg*s antiques
we go skate, rape sl*ts and eat donuts from randy
b*tches like tia landry watching billy and mandy
motherf*ckers wanna be odd but you can’t be
sit the f*ck down all you old n*gg*s stand me, f*ggot

i guess i gotta be a f*ckin’ hand-me-down rapper
from los angee area anytime i’m f*ckin’ landing
f*ck 2dopeboyz and nahright, shout out to hype track
them motherf*ckers could never get rid of me
guess i gotta do a f*cking song with dom kennedy
get these f*ckin’ hip hop bloggers to start feelin’ me
because i’m seventeen, compose my own beats
lyrically i’m dope enough to *ss-f*ck the dude who made nicotine
maybe i should buy some hundreds, wear some f*ckin’ skinny jeans
and follow in your footsteps like a motherf*ckin’ millipede
centipede, make songs about gucci and cigaweed
jerk with my friends like it’s some motherf*ckin’ little league
no i ain’t no f*cking hipster, mister
no i’m not no f*cking kid cudi, all my f*cking fans love me
collaboration hits for fans screaming f*ck buddies, yo, yo

i’m drivin’ in a stolen truck, and i’m probably f*ckin’ drunk
wasted as f*ck, can’t walk it out, dj unk
my nose is filled with c*ke and my license is revoked
(shut the f*ck up!) who the f*ck told me not to spoke?
f*ck everybody here, everybody vanish, i’ll manage
hop off my d*ck and make a f*cking sandwitch
everybody listening can suck my d*ck in spanish
f*ck you, f*ggot (f*ckin’ b*st*rd)

yeah, um, as you can probably tell from listening to this record
i was, i was probably angry, probably on my period
but um, i didn’t mean to offend anyone, alright, i’m lying, of

/ tyler the creator lyrics