"French!" lyrics - TYLER, THE CREATOR
[Verse 1: 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 stepson attacking a deadly weapon
I'm opening a church to sell coke and Led Zeppelin
And fuck Mary in her ass...
Yo, I'm fucking Goldilocks up in the forest
In the three bear house eating their mothafuckin' 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 the wet bitches be banging
And please never disrespect my set
With Canons hanging from our necks like it's a mothafuckin' circus
[Hook: Hodgy & Tyler]
You little niggas better (check my French)
You getting money? Better (check my French)
What time is it, huh? (Check my French)
If you got my shit you better check my French, motherfucker
I'm making moves, (check my French)
I speak English but (check my French)
Your ho be on my penis, she (check my French)
Bitch
[Verse 2: Tyler, the Creator]
I guess I left my dignity up in the cupboard
'Cause every girl I'm digging, when I'm digging in her pussy
I'm never using a rubber
But fuck it, I guess I got to stretch it out like it was flubber
And leave it dripping green and red like double cheese burgers
Chewing on cum like bubble gum from Hubba
This bitch knew dick like Bubba knew shrimp, yeah
Yo, I'm seventeen, already sniffing 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 silly ho
The most that they can do is fine me, I'm hiding
Somewhere where Chris Stokes can't find me
Oh no Mr. Stokes, I don't like misters, no
Don't tell R. Kelly where my little sister go
[Hook: Hodgy & Tyler]
You little niggas better (check my French)
You getting money? Better (check my French)
What time is it, huh? (Check my French)
If you got my shit you better check my French, motherfucker
I'm making moves, (check my French)
I speak English but (check my French)
Your ho be on my penis, she (check my French)
Bitch
[Verse 3: Hodgy]
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 and figure?
You seem confused anyway, pressured enough?
You the type to do the choke when the pressure is up
The pressure is the pump and the pressure is us
Bitches having 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 saying? I don't think so
We sick shit, throw it up down in the sink, yo
These Odd niggas are beginning to spill these pink flows
We think sorta odd, so we think so
[Verse 4: Tyler, the Creator]
Crusing in my go-kart at Walmart selling cupcakes
Go ahead admit it, faggot, this shit is tighter than butt rape
That involve Ballpark Franks and silver duct tape
Pornos and hormones and boxes of DiGiorno
You homos is loco, you're probably drinking Cuervo
With some vatos with the door closed watching Zorro
You homos
[Outro: Tyler & Dr. TC]
O.F., yes
(So, are you dating anyone right now? You know, or..)
No, I'm just playing the field, just for now
(Ah, so I'm guessing she's white, since she's 'vanilla'
Hahah)
