Paroles Couch de Earl Sweatshirt

Textes et Paroles de Couch

[Verse 1: Earl]
Uh, was always smartmouthed and quick with it
But something was always missing like six digits
Lucky seven probably poppa
Little nigga saw they picked on him hassled him
Things changed when I hassled back, so
David hit the pavement with this Grapple rap
Snapple fact, you rather wack
While I am popping like a snapping crack
So (?) you could see like tallahasse, the opposite of cataracts
Matter fact I am Farmer John milking cattle tracks
Action packed nipple squeezing, boycotting this sniffle season
Simple genius, go hard as spit, this is semen
So when the street is split
Don't act surprised, agree with it
The Gang of Wolves and creeps and crips
Is deep as Dawson's Creek and shit
I pray they got gills either that or grab some floaties
I know I got skills, why you think I'm post to boasting
Bragging tell this faggots to stop nagging
Cause them Wolf Gang niggas throw them off the bandwagon like

[Verse 2: Tyler]
Uh, was always fucked up and shit with it
But I didn't cross the line until the bridge hit it.. True
I got you niggas nervous like virgins flirting with Uncle Mervin
Fucking y'all with no lubricant go grab the detergent
I preach to demons at your church, now I'm the newest sermon
Wearing nothing but they fucking (?) with their magic turbant
I drive through white suburbans in the black Suburban swerving
Hitting curving and blasting every sermon drunk off English Bourbon
I'm stealing purses raping nurses I'm a quick consierge
And true to beat like sanitized nazi pussies, I'm a German
I'm squirting while I'm masturbating and regurgitating
From eating miley cyrus salad pussy platter they were serving
My only purpose is to jerk it cause I has a curse
So bitches hate to do me like ex-convict community service
This my Zombie Circus, you better get a fucking ticket
Odd Future Wolf Gang like they're filming Twilight in this bitch

[Verse 3: Earl]
I'm back on my sixty six six shit
Flowing like the blood out the competition's slit wrists
She lick it up, Dracula, and spit it back, back at ya
She mad as fuck, stuck in the back of a black Acura
Fed her ass and now the ducktape quacks back at her
Hello at the yellow feathers now you ain't laughing, huh

[Verse 4: Tyler]
Bitch you're barely breathing living on the back of the boat
While I fill you up with semen from the Wolf Gang teaming
Flowing like the creampie aside of your daughter
Oughta eat the bitch with salt and wash it down with a gallon of water
I grab the saw and sawed her arm off and auction it
And different teeth and gold and floss the shit
Fucking awesome spitting box of trees, got you niggas
Shaking like it's Parkinsons from the clitoris of Kelly Clarkson's tit
Ironin you niggas now it's time to start some shit
Drown your bitch in a tub of cum and throw a shark in it
Find a random abandoned garage and go to park in it
Find Earl lying on the burgundy carpet, pull my knife out, sharpen it
Stab him, put an arch on it, pour a liter of gas on him
Hit the Zippo and spark the shit
Hop back in the van and then depart the bitch
Killed him on his own track, the faggot shouldn't have started it

C'était les paroles de Couch
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