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*}