Artist: Tyler, the Creator f/ Hodgy Beats
Album:  Bastard
Song:   French!
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash

[Tyler, the Creator]
Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla
She tryin to get her +Groove Back+ like +Stella+, grab the umbrella
When it comes to your perception of my shit I'm Helen Keller
When it comes to the perfection of my shit I know you smell the
rectum, I'm like a chromosome I always X them
Like Wolverine stepson attackin a deadly weapon
I'm openin a church to sell coke and Led Zeppelin
and fuck Mary in her ass... hehehe, yo~!
I'm fucking Goldilocks up in the forest
in the three bear house eating they motherfuckin porridge
I tell her it's my house, give her a tour in my basement
and keep that bitch locked up in my storage
Rape her and record it, then edit it with more shit
Octopussy special effect the wet bitches be bangin
and please never disrespect my set with Canons
hangin from our necks like it's a motherfuckin circus

[Chorus]
You little niggaz better check my French
You getting money better check my French
What time is it, huh? Check my French
If you cop my shit you better check my French
I'm makin moves, check my French
I speak English but check my French
Your hoe be on my penis, she check my French
Bitch

[Tyler, the Creator]
I guess I left my dignity up in the cupboard, cause every girl I'm diggin
when I'm diggin in her pussy, I'm never using a rubber
But fuck it, I guess I got to stretch it out like it was flubber
and leave it drippin green and red like double cheeseburgers
Chewin on cum like bubble gum from Hubba
This bitch knew dick like Bubba knew shrimp, yeah
... Yo I'm seventeen, already sniffin blow
I tell my friends it's asthma every time I start to itch my throat
I got a new show for MTV, "Pimp My Boat"
because some bitch said my semen was dirty, that's silly hoe
The most that they can do is find me
I'm hiding, somewhere where Chris Stokes can't find me
Oh no Mr. Stokes, I don't like misters no
Don't tell R. Kelly where my little sister go

[Chorus]

[Hodgy Beats]
Yo; you little niggaz better check my French
I got all stars and you can check my bench
Left Brain, Super 3, Creator Ace
Put expressions in the music and create the face
of the picture punchline figured out, ahh I get you
No you don't nigga so why don't you go and figure
You seem confused anyway, pressured enough?
You the type of dude that choke when the pressure is up
The pressure is the pump and the pressure is us
Bitche having eargasms and the pleasure is us
Niggaz wanna be O.F. and write letters to us
Competition's competition, yo you better than us?
Digest what I'm sayin? I don't think so
We sick shit, throw it up down in the sink yo
The +Odd+ niggaz are beginnin to spill these pink notes
We think sorta +Odd+, so we think so

[Tyler, the Creator]
Crusin in my go kart at Walmart sellin cupcakes
Go ahead admit it faggot, this shit is tighter than butt rape
that involve ballpark franks and silver duct tape
pornos and hormones and boxes of DiGiorno
You homos is loco, you probably drinkin Cuervo
with some vatos with the door closed watching Zorro
You homos... O.F., yes
{So are you dating anyone right now? Y'know}
No I'm just, playing the field, for right now
{Ahh so, I'm guessing she's white since, she's a vanilla}