[Intro: Tyler, the Creator]
Nahh no, nahh nahh $#&@ that
^!$$%s think cause you $#&@in' made Chum and got all personal

That ^!$$%s won't go back to that old $#&@in' 2010 %#@!
About talkin' 'bout $#&@in' everything all
No $#&@ that ^!$$% I got you

$#&@ that

[Verse: Earl Sweatshirt]

Grab mittens who have to spit blizzardous
Actually flick cigarette ash at (*##$ ^!$$%s
Harassment, eight nickels of hash, delay quick, and then dash

The Saint Nicholas pad that taste venison
Still in the business of smacking up little rappers with
Raquets you play tennis with, hated for bank lifting and

Spraying that hotter wind in the shade of his maimed innocence
Suitcase scented with haze and fileted sentences
Advanced apathy, smashing the man cameras up

Tan khakis and antagonists Dan-dappered up
Vagabond, had it since a Padawan
Rapping hot as $#&@ in cattle brands, wearing flannel thongs

Grab a bong, momma and some food, beer, tag along
Get a nice spanking, new Sears catalog
Send them nettled critics to the bezzle stop, dead and wrong

Get 'em higher than the pitch of metal tea kettle songs

[Hook: Tyler, the Creator]

Four deep in a Rover cannon
Riding dirty through a Saugus canyon, ^!$$%s know that it's the
G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G

G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G
50 K for the last check
But the Dollar Menu still be on deck, ^!$$% it's the

G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G
G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G


[Verse: Earl Sweatshirt]
Yeah, the Misadventures of a %#@! talker
Pissed as Rick Ross's fifth sip off his sixth lager

Known to sit and wash the sins off at the pitch alter
Hat never backwards like the print off of jipped manga
Get it? Like a blue pill, make ya stick longer

Or a swift fist off your chin from his wrist launcher
Chick, chronic thrift shopper, thick like the Knicks roster
Stormed off and came straight back like fixed posture

Pen? Naw, probably written with some used syringes
From out the rubbish bin at your local loony clinic
Watching movies in a room full of goons he rented

On the hunt for clues, more food, and some floozy women
Bruising gimmicks with the broom he usually use for Quidditch
Gooey writtens, scoot 'em to a ditch, chewed and booty scented

Too pretentious, do pretend like he could lose with spitting
Steaming tubes of poop and twisted doobies full of euphemisms
Stupid, thought it up, jot it quick

Thought out, toss it right out like a vodka fifth
Spot him on a rocket swapping dollars in for pocket lint
The lob a wad of chicken at a copper on some Flocka %#@!


[Tyler, the Creator]
Posing ^!$$% try to disrespect

Get a $#&@ing thunder to his neck, shout out to Nak, cause it's the
G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G
G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G

Looking bummy, posted on the block, looking like I ain't make
A quarter million off of socks, ^!$$%, cause it's the
G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G

G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G
G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G