Tyler, The Creator
Oldie
[Verse 1: Momo]
It's the philosophical
Sending doctors to hospitals
Fill my pockets with rocket fuel
Sick mind, inoperable
Opposite of the gospel
Opposite of apostles
Tryna stop all the sinning, I swear that shit is impossible
Flow's oxymoronical
Comical fucking chronicle
You know, why ladies they
Visit, the kind's conjugal
Rappers fucking making me
Sick to my abdominal
Willis, "What I'm talkin bout"
Phyllis, and I'm Michael Scott
You already know, blunts of that medical
SUS GANG, knock you n***as off of ya pedestal
Selling kids, bags of broccoli, I call it con-nobis
The type to sell whiskey at Alcoholic's Anonymous
I'm a bad influence, probably cause I'm under it
Don't consent to searches, these fucking cops can suck a dick
Flow wetter than summer weather hitting ya under pits
Punchlines softer than a bunter hits
Fucking bitch