Artist: Odd Future (OFWGKTA) f/ Tyler, the Creator Album: The Odd Future Tape Song: Fucking Lame Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash [Tyler, the Creator - vocal tone pitched up] I'm rollin through Ladera in a Beemer lookin cleaner Drinkin on the blueberry Slurpee, eatin that fajita My passenger seat is occupied by senorita And my mother keeps on buggin me about wantin to meet her I don't really need her, I'm just tryin to treat her real nice so later on up in the night, I could go beat her And make a lie about the gonorrhea So she don't feel guilty about me wantin to leave her That "fuck" on my t-shirt print is cheetah And I got that '87 bunny flow like an Easter Basket, you faggots, is plastic, like nerds with old glasses But I'm still liable to get my ass kicked Conned-Sort actors, a Baby Milo addict in the attic where you losers can't get me Nikon and the Canon, they were never the same And please do not take a picture, I can't be seen with you lames [Chorus] Man, y'all some motherfuckin lames Man, y'all some motherfuckin lames Don't lie to yourself, y'all some lames Man, y'all some motherfuckin lames The Canon don't flash, y'all some lames I can not be seen with you lames You motherfuckers is the lames (Tyler, the Creator) [Tyler, the Creator] Can't stop far, flashin like a cop car Me and {*children yelling*} rock well, I'm a rock star Fuck y'all the O.F. is bangin on 'em Custom crew necks, rollin while we're Ronald Reagan on 'em Y'all drug dealers, I Carl Sagan on 'em Chop and screw Nas tracks, I got piano's waitin on 'em My shirt is yellow, but the grill is gold I couldn't take the Ritalin cause my therapist said the pill is old I can't skate, but I guess I lost control I don't have sense, sorry I sold my soul for some gold Bapes low-price, stale rate Authentic, never fake, check the poll, our statistic Stay with authentics, check my steelo Cause my +Mob's+ +Goodie+ like we +Cee-Lo+ and he know I am yes and even she know Every instrument is a gram, kilo {*children cheering*}