[Verse: Earl Sweatshirt]

Sweatshirt, Domo Genesis, throwing chairs, killing shit

I'm half-privileged, think white and have nigga lips

A tad different, mad smart, act ignorant

Shit, I'll pass a class when my dad starts giving shits

But as long as our relationship is turdless

I'ma keep burning rubber and fucking these beats with burnt dick

Who that? Oh, that new-coon John Cusack

A Mecca button-up, shouting, "Bring Fubu back"

Hands full of coke, mouth full of crack Muzak

Odd Future on the do-rag—guess who's back

With no hint, we're egging with no tint

Plus, it's a shotgun under the seat where your ho sits, ugh

The Night Striker, I'm riding her, up-tying her

It's nine Vicodins stuck inside of the windpipes of her

A little bit of sherm sure provokes the fucking fight in her

She started biting 'cause I'm giving cock like it's advice to her

Take that, I'm on top like wave caps

This is grade-A rap—Domo, bring that bass back, nigga

[Outro: Earl Sweatshirt & Tyler, the Creator]

Um, Domo couldn’t be here, so, uh… We’re just… I don’t like talking. Hu— Ugh!

Awww, cuz fell on the floor, cuz! Ayy, call them policemen niggas that, like, help people when they hurt!