[Verse: Tyler, The Creator]

Niggas give me the cold shoulder, I can speak for myself

So I keep a high waist and alligator the belt

And got a belt with the holster, I ain't playing games

But got some lil' niggas who would do it so I pass the controller

You get pressed and X out, tri-angle your nose

Pause your life if you squares try to mess with my O's, whoa

So cut the crap like shit barbers

Cause we really with the beef like closeted gay fathers

Nigga we get dollars, give 'em to Ben Baller

Exchange for them chains that's all shiny with thick water

I got back pains, neck heavy like whipped cream

My whip clean, and they all white, I whip cream

And cop boys and I joy stick, I whip cream and cop cribs

I got more space than big jeans, y'all sleeping on me

Explain why they got shit dreams

I'm alien, got the laser gun with the big beam

Married to the money, my bitch green

No I don't sip lean, but ride around in rockets like Yao Ming

Y'all niggas weak

They thought I was goofy and all mouses

Double C my luggage and fill them with Comme blouses

Y'all cop kush, my nigga I cop houses

And fill 'em with some Leo DiCap's and some Cole Sprouses, nigga