Lyrics

[Intro] One, two, gold, four [Verse 1] One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish Fuck going to parties, I'm reading Dr. Seuss shit The Devil said I'm heaven sent, my fucking skills are evident You're irrelevant, like us having a nigger president Yo' black pupils stick to me like Velcro But I don't think no one can touch me, Tickle Me Elmo You're a fucking homo's snack, a Lunchable I'm an Addams Family member, you're a fucking Huxtable My Superman state of dark cape is Bape You're wearing Diamond Supply but you do not even skate You're backwards bent, no forward thought shit Like fat people wearing skinny jeans they can't fit If I die, tell my mom I took a dollar out her wallet Always out the motherfucking box, no in Don't have a religion, ignorant, no sin Begin my book, first page no end, I'm done [Interlude] Yeah This is like a Zombie Circus, for me Hi, I'm Tyler [Verse 2] Told my counselor I'm contemplating killing, these instrumentals ill as fuck Used for Penicillin, pump bass these keys To rappers I was dealing made me a crazy man Mom, pass the fucking Ritalin Bitches throw they pussy at me like they mad at kittens Got me pissing red and green shit like it's fucking Christmas But I'm a fucking virgin if you listen When I say I hate yo' motherfucking guts I'm not kidding My suicide note's already written It says "Fuck you" in all caps, to be specific Company that that piano kept me I cannot comprehend you niggas, I'm dyslexie With skinheads, skateboarders somewhere where yo' ex be You roll with thugs, you can find me where the T-Rex be Busted ass cap, busted ass shoes On a scale to one to two I'm Fucking Awesome plus tax I'm done [Interlude] Shit Uh-uh-uh uh Yeah This is like The Truman Show I'm Tyler [Verse 3] Fuck Lame hoodie, my mom goodie Naked Jazz records, Jimmy, woody Iller, I would be, killer, or should he kill her? I should be But I'm a fucking dinosaur, you could hear me make a roar Right inside your fucking store, interesting your fucking brain Right inside the fucking door, my key got three locks To open the beat box where I keep my instruments On some sentimental shit Y'all don't got Maybachs, y'all be on some rental shit I'm broke as fuck, my pockets be on some lintel shit Smile with the gold fronts like I'm on some dental shit Walk inside Supreme like I'm on some Skate Mental shit Talkin' to my self, yeah I'm on some mental shit [Outro] Cha-ching, cha-ching Fuckin' cha-ching Uh, uh Uh, yeah