Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Tyler, The Creator
Tyler, The Creator
Vocals
Frank Ocean
Frank Ocean
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Christopher Breaux
Christopher Breaux
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Tyler, The Creator
Tyler, The Creator
Producer
Vic Wainstein
Vic Wainstein
Recording Engineer
Manny Marroquin
Manny Marroquin
Mixing Engineer
Chris Galland
Chris Galland
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Delbert Bowers
Delbert Bowers
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Brian Gardner
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

Me and Slater just hit a curb Bunnyhop, zoning out, listening to N.E.R.D (Star Trak) Made a couple thousand turds spitting written verbs Shit (what?) now I kick it in the 'burbs Me? I'm from the slums, niggas who push a ton Ton of drums, with foul flow, dirty mouth, like kissing bums Mama done made her one, um, a witty son With no respect for women, so show me your titties hun (what?) You eighteen? Me? I'm twenty-somethin' OK, I'm twenty, but I'm soon to be twenty-one I wild out at shows, break shit, it should be fun Venues are like pussy with me, "Should he come?" I'ma wax that like the chapstick in my backpack for my black lips Then dip to Europe and come back with a stack of cheese A stack of cheese for these rats, um, that mac and cheese New 'Preme shit got me feeling flyer than a bag of bees Fuck critics ("How's your dick?") Shit, how's your knees? Y'all on my dick more than my index when I take a pee I came up with "Rella", ain't touch a bag of weed Shit was doper than Whitney Houston's needs Golf Wang, that's the team to be, ay Getting T.U., O.F., indeed We was missing Sweatshirt, like "Where's the hooded sleeve?" Okay, nevermind, we found him, yeah Me and Slater just hit a curb Bunnyhop, zoning out, listening to N.E.R.D Made a couple thousand turds spitting written verbs Shit (what?) now I kick it in the 'burbs Guess I win, checks started cashing in I stop rapping and start asking where my fucking passion is Probably where that faggot went (who?) Tyler talking father problems Shocking shit, he spit to popping topics in them gossip columns I ain't ask for this, I did it out of boredom Thought that roach was cool, he died and pushed me into stardom Now; Ye's, PJs, sipping leche Chips Ahoy, boy, listening to "Cowboy", ay! Boy, land in Melbourne and skate to Fitzroy, ay! AUS was awes', I enjoyed, boy Y'all niggas played as a tot's toy Have a good day as I annoy, oi Me and Slater just hit a curb Bunnyhop, zoning out, listening to N.E.R.D Made a couple thousand turds spitting written verbs Shit (what?) now I kick it in the 'burbs Canons with panorama views My shoes that seen more vans than Mexicanas Or crackers in Alabama G-O-to-the-L-F, this OF I opened up a store so I don't stress But nigga, I (what?) mosh in gardens Jazz punk shit, playing chords Making up shit, pardon my Dolly Partons And I keep shartin' Hoodies with rectangles and different colors Niggers think I started kindergarten My bitch is on my handle bars I, just, wanna, ride, my bike Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater My bitch is on my handle bars Hair blowing in the wind Her freckles look like candy bars Hair blowing in the wind My bitch is on my handle bars I, just, wanna, ride, my bike Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater My bitch is on my handle bars (handle bars) Hair blowing in the wind (ooohh) Her freckles look like candy bars (shit) My cool summer never ends (cool) My bitch is on my handle bars Yeah (bars, bars) Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater Oh my God, seriously? Mister cool guy, haha You're talking to a fucking bike, loser Hehe, oh fuck
Writer(s): Tyler Gregory Okonma, Christopher Breaux Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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