French! (feat. Hodgy Beats) - Tyler, The Creator

Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla

She tryna 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 'em

Like Wolverine steps on attackin’a deadly weapon

I’m openin’a church to sell coke and Led Zeppelin

And fuck Mary in her ass.

ha-ha.

yo

I’m fuckin’Goldilocks up in the forest

In the three bear house eatin’their muthafuckin’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 erect bitches we bangin'

And please never disrespect my set with Canons

Hangin’from our necks like it’s a muthafuckin’circus

You little niggas better check my French

You gettin’money better check my French

Ahh, what time is it, huh?

Check my French

If you got my shit you better check my French

I make it move check my French

I speak English but check my French

Your ho be on my penis she check my French, bitch

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 usin’a rubber

But fuck it I guess I gotta stretch it out like it was flubber

And leave it drippin’green and red like double cheese buggers

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 ho The most that they can do is find me, I’m hiding

Oh no, Mister Stokes, I don’t like misters, no Don’t tell R. Kelly where my little sister go You little niggas better check my French

You gettin’money better check my French

Ahh, what time is it, huh?

Check my French

If you got my shit you better check my French

I make it move check my French

I speak English but check my French

Your ho be on my penis she check my French, bitch

Yo, you little niggas better check my French

I got all stars and you can check my bench

Left Brain, Super 3, Creator Ace

Put expressions in their 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 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 Bitches havin’eargasms and the pleasure is us Niggas 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 niggas are beginnin’to spill these pink hoes

We think sorta odd so we think so Crusin’in my go kart at Walmart sellin’cupcakes

Go 'head admit it faggot, this shit is tighter then butt rape

That involve Ballpark franks and silver duct tape

Pornos and hormones and boxes of DiGiorno

You homos is loco you’re probably drinkin’Cuervo

With some vatos with the door closed watchin’Zorro, you homos.

O. F