Yo, shout out to everybody that worked on the album
You feel me, son? Yo, shouts out to Ty Dollas
Shouts out to Hodgy Daddies, shouts out to Left Brizzle
Shouts out to Domyon, shouts out to Frankie Ocean
Shouts out to Syd the Dude, shouts out to L-Boy Awk
Big eared bandit is tossing all his manners
In a bag and wrapping them in seran wrap bandages
Tossing them in baskets with the rest of those sandwiches
So when he says "catch up, n*gga" it looks like an accident
Um, flowing like my pad is the maxiest
My b*tch white and black like she’s been mimicking a panda
It’s the dark skinned n*gga, kissing b*tches in Canada
Then kicking all out like Mr. Lawrence did Pamela
Put her in the chamber all against her Will Chamberlain
I never had a reason, n*gga, I was just able
Not a f*cking Logic contradicting d*ck head
Flyer than an ostrich moshing in a tar pit
Semen scented cheetah printed tee
In that ’Preme five panel, I’ll repeat it for the season
Previous items in the present
With the normal ass past like I cheated on my team
Man (tried to get that n*gga, but, Golf Wang)
To have some type of knowledge that is one perception
But knowing you own your opponent is a defeating bonus
I’m Zeus to a Kronos
Cartilage cartridge is boneless
Smiles of cowards in lead showers
Dead spouses in red blouses
Children who fled houses on Mustang horses an went jousting
I’m on my Robin Hood sh*t
Robbin’ in the hood: whips, drugs, jewels, and your pet
I’m stealing your rings, coke diamonds and your Vet
Soldiers lace the f*ckin’ boot
And salute like the troop when they shoot you gon’ poop
It’s Killhodgy, n*gga, stay the f*ck off my stoop
And out my Kool aid, juice
Hodgy got the juice, I got the gin
Jasper got the Henny, my n*gga we get it in
Wolf Gang party at the hotel
I call a ho, you call a ho, and all the hoes tell
You know Left Brain need a freak
I need a b*tch to go down like a Nitty beat
Yup, uh, and her ass fat
Don’t be surprised if I ask where the hash at
N*gga I’m tryin’ to smoke, b*tch get higher
Domo where that Flocka Flame? Talkin’ ’bout a lighter
Still bang salute me or just shoot me
Cause if you don’t salute me then my team will do the shooting
Yea my n*gga Ace will pull the black jack
The king Mike G is in the cut with the black mac
Livin’ like the Mafia, b*tch, don’t get to slacking up
And if these haters actin’ up, throw ’em in the aqueduct
Free my n*gga Earl, yo, I don’t really ask for much
But two bad b*tches in front of me cunnilingus
What the f*ck is caution?
Often I leave you flossin’ and cause exes next to coffins
Lost in translation, the dreams you chase
Got you diving for the plates like you stealin’ home base
That’s great - I’m home alone dreamin’ of two on ones
With Rihanna and Christina Milian, bring it on
And Travis is in the closet organizing and hangin’ the tramp
Three lettermans that Ace has been makin’ him
No strays while we catchin’ matinees, huh?
I’m gettin’ blazed thinking ’bout those days
I had the top off the GT3 like toupees
One finger in the air, all’s fair when crime pays
My grand scheme of things
Is to be attached to the game like b*tches to their wedding rings
And you don’t even need to look
Cause we gleam obscene in the light
Ride slow to my yellow diamond shining like the Batman logo over Gotham
Rock LA to Harlem
If you say "get ’em Mike G" then I got ’em
One man squadron, n*gga I’m a problem
From Briggs I got bars and plans to
Pimp these Polish b*tches into pop stars
Humanity kills, we all suffer from insanity still
And if I said it then it is or it’s gonna be real
OF ’til I OD and I probably will, uh
It’s still Mr. Smoke-a-lot-of-pot
Get your baby mommy popped with my other snobby bop
Do I love her, prolly not
Know your sh*t is not as hot as anything I f*ckin’ drop
B*tch I’m in the zone, stand alone, like Macaulay Cock
I’ve been runnin’ blocks since a snotty tot
Big wheel was a big deal with the water Glock
Now I’m all grown, sing songs just to give ’em watts
Fire what I talk, but still cooler than the otter pop
Op Dom neck sh*t in your wish list
Mad sick sh*t, mad d*ck for your b*tches
On some slick sh*t, your mistress on my hit list
And I’m lifted ’til I’m stiff out of this b*tch
Odd in your motherf*ckin’ area
Blood clots give me five feet ’fore I bury ya
Suicide flow, let the big wave carry ya
Tyler got the mask like he held Jim Carey up
And f*ck your team, ho n*gga wassup
Wolf Gang so you know we not givin’ no f*cks
You know me dog, I’ma chill in the cut so I can
Cut it short, break it down, couple pounds, roll it up
(Get me a Persian rug where the center looks like Galaga)
Rent a super car for a day
Drive around with your friends, smoke a gram of that haze
Bro, easy on the ounce, that’s a lot for a day
But just enough for a week, my n*gga what can I say
I’m hi and I’m bye, wait I mean I’m straight
I’ma get you this wine, the runner just brought the grapes
My brother give it some time, Morris, and Day
’Course you know the vibe’s as fly as the rhymes
On the song, cut and you could sample the feel
Headphone bleed, make this sh*t sound real
Used to work the grill, fatburger and fries
Then I made a mil and them psychics was liars
Now, how many f*ckin’ crystal balls can I buy and own
Humble old me had to flex for the fogs
Down in Muscle Beach pumpin’ iron and bone
Bumpin’ oldies off my cellular phone
Yea, bumpin’ oldies off my cellular phone
Bumpin’ oldies off my cellular phone
Goddammit, this rapping is stupid and it’s hard
Gotta do it over and over and over again but here I go
Hey it’s Jasper, not even a rapper
Only on this beat to make my racks grow faster
Got a TV show, so I guess I’m an actor
Pot head, half baked, lookin’ like Chappelle
Rollin’ up a blunt with that fire from hell
Still ignorant, still hit a b*tch
Wolf Gang, n*gga, so I still don’t give a sh*t
Catch me in the back with Miley on my lap
Bong rips as I feel on that little b*tch cat
Hah, n*gga came through with a 9 bar real quick
Just for the b*tches, little bit of money in my pocket
F*ck it, Wolf Gang
Yeah, f*ck that
Look, the contrast is a pair of lips
Swallowin’ syrup and settin’ fires to sheriffs whip
F*ckin’ all American terrorist
Crushin’ rapper larynx to feed ’em a f*ckin’ carrot stick
And me? I just spent a year Ferrisin’
And lost a little sanity to show you what hysterics is
Spit to the lips meet the bottom of a barrel
So that sterile piss flow remind these n*ggas where embarrassed is
Narrow, tight line, might impair him
Since I made it back to Fahrenheit, grimey get dinero type
Pharaoh f*ckin’ pillow tear wearin’ pack of parasite
Threw his own youth off the roof after paradise
Ladidadi back in here to f*ck the party up
Raiding fridges, tipping over vases with a tommy gun
Never dollars, pop would make it rain hockey pucks
60 day chips from f*ckin’ awesome anonymous
Call him bloated ’til he show them that the flow deluxe
Off the wall loafers, four loko, and a cobra clutch
Vocals bold and rough, evoke a ho’ to pose his drum
Let me hit him, hit it with a stick until the ho was numb
Culprit of the potent punch
Scolding hot as dunking scrotum in a Folgers cup - or Nevada
Driving drunk inside a stolen truck
Sh*tting like his colon bust
Belly full of chicken and a fifth of old petroleum
Supernova, I’m rollin’ over the novices
I’m roamin’ through the forest and spittin’ cold as the porridge is
Stay gold ’til the case closed and the story end
Post mortem porkin’ this rap sh*t and record it
To escort it to the morgue again
Lord of lips, bored of this
Forklift the tippy top, best under 40 list
Stormin’ the gate, who’s sure in the base, scorching ladies
Motherf*ckers soarin’, torso and face
Get at me with savages, have a pack of Apache
Indian pack of n*ggas who don’t give a f*ck if we nasty as flatulence
As a matter of fact, your swagger is tacky so see me you can’t
Like crunchy black cats in a taxi
Back like lateral passing
With that motherf*cking gladiator manner of rapping
As an addict I let percocets and xannies relax me
Fall back if your paddies is Maxi
Please
OF, sh*t that’s all I got
From my bigger brother Frankie to my little brother Tac
From that father figure Clancy to that skatey n*gga Naks
Shredding down ’Fax, Wolf Gang run the f*ckin’ block
Storefront, knee tat
Book cover is the same lettering on lettermans and cotton socks
And grip tape... and my shoes
Um, I was 15 when I first drew that donut
5 years later, for our label yea we own it
I started an empire, I ain’t even old enough
To drink a f*ckin’ beer, I’m tipsy off this soda pop
This is for the niggers in the suburbs
And the white kids with n*gga friends who say the n-word
And the ones that got called weird, fag, b*tch, nerd
Cause you was into jazz, kitty cats, and Steven Spielberg
They say we ain’t actin’ right
Always try to turn our f*ckin’ color into black and white
But they’ll never change ’em, never understand ’em
Radical’s my anthem, turn my f*ckin’ amps up
So instead of critiquing and b*tching, being mad as f*ck
Just admit, not only are we talented, we’re rad as f*ck
B*tches
[ti:Oldie]
[ar:Odd Future]
[al:The Of Tape Vol. 2]
[by:竹韵]
[00:00.00]Odd Future - Oldie
[00:00.55]
[00:01.07]lrc编辑：几度执笔 QQ：1522780439
[00:01.69]
[00:02.26]Yo, shout out to everybody that worked on the album
[00:03.22]You feel me, son? Yo, shouts out to Ty Dollas
[00:06.75]Shouts out to Hodgy Daddies, shouts out to Left Brizzle
[00:11.12]Shouts out to Domyon, shouts out to Frankie Ocean
[00:15.69]Shouts out to Syd the Dude, shouts out to L-Boy Awk
[00:21.44]
[00:24.75]Big eared bandit is tossing all his manners
[00:27.22]In a bag and wrapping them in seran wrap bandages
[00:29.97]Tossing them in baskets with the rest of those sandwiches
[00:32.66]So when he says "catch up, n*gga" it looks like an accident
[00:35.89]Um, flowing like my pad is the maxiest
[00:38.17]My b*tch white and black like she’s been mimicking a panda
[00:40.86]It’s the dark skinned n*gga, kissing b*tches in Canada
[00:43.68]Then kicking all out like Mr. Lawrence did Pamela
[00:46.36]Put her in the chamber all against her Will Chamberlain
[00:49.03]I never had a reason, n*gga, I was just able
[00:51.70]Not a f*cking Logic contradicting d*ck head
[00:54.64]Flyer than an ostrich moshing in a tar pit
[00:57.36]Semen scented cheetah printed tee
[00:60.00]In that ’Preme five panel, I’ll repeat it for the season
[01:02.68]Previous items in the present
[01:05.43]With the normal ass past like I cheated on my team
[01:07.66]Man (tried to get that n*gga, but, Golf Wang)
[01:18.52]
[01:19.39]To have some type of knowledge that is one perception
[01:21.78]But knowing you own your opponent is a defeating bonus
[01:24.54]I’m Zeus to a Kronos
[01:25.84]Cartilage cartridge is boneless
[01:27.34]Smiles of cowards in lead showers
[01:29.45]Dead spouses in red blouses
[01:31.23]Children who fled houses on Mustang horses an went jousting
[01:34.74]I’m on my Robin Hood sh*t
[01:36.62]Robbin’ in the hood: whips, drugs, jewels, and your pet
[01:39.46]I’m stealing your rings, coke diamonds and your Vet
[01:42.10]Soldiers lace the f*ckin’ boot
[01:43.40]And salute like the troop when they shoot you gon’ poop
[01:46.17]It’s Killhodgy, n*gga, stay the f*ck off my stoop
[01:48.78]And out my Kool aid, juice
[01:51.99]
[01:57.69]Hodgy got the juice, I got the gin
[02:00.20]Jasper got the Henny, my n*gga we get it in
[02:02.92]Wolf Gang party at the hotel
[02:05.91]I call a ho, you call a ho, and all the hoes tell
[02:09.31]You know Left Brain need a freak
[02:11.46]I need a b*tch to go down like a Nitty beat
[02:14.02]Yup, uh, and her ass fat
[02:16.76]Don’t be surprised if I ask where the hash at
[02:19.47]N*gga I’m tryin’ to smoke, b*tch get higher
[02:22.28]Domo where that Flocka Flame? Talkin’ ’bout a lighter
[02:25.28]Still bang salute me or just shoot me
[02:27.45]Cause if you don’t salute me then my team will do the shooting
[02:30.07]Yea my n*gga Ace will pull the black jack
[02:33.00]The king Mike G is in the cut with the black mac
[02:35.92]Livin’ like the Mafia, b*tch, don’t get to slacking up
[02:38.44]And if these haters actin’ up, throw ’em in the aqueduct
[02:41.15]Free my n*gga Earl, yo, I don’t really ask for much
[02:44.01]But two bad b*tches in front of me cunnilingus
[02:47.46]
[02:56.99]What the f*ck is caution?
[02:58.13]Often I leave you flossin’ and cause exes next to coffins
[03:01.86]Lost in translation, the dreams you chase
[03:04.03]Got you diving for the plates like you stealin’ home base
[03:07.35]That’s great - I’m home alone dreamin’ of two on ones
[03:10.63]With Rihanna and Christina Milian, bring it on
[03:13.40]And Travis is in the closet organizing and hangin’ the tramp
[03:16.58]Three lettermans that Ace has been makin’ him
[03:19.47]No strays while we catchin’ matinees, huh?
[03:22.00]I’m gettin’ blazed thinking ’bout those days
[03:24.25]I had the top off the GT3 like toupees
[03:27.04]One finger in the air, all’s fair when crime pays
[03:29.78]My grand scheme of things
[03:31.64]Is to be attached to the game like b*tches to their wedding rings
[03:35.06]And you don’t even need to look
[03:36.66]Cause we gleam obscene in the light
[03:38.36]Ride slow to my yellow diamond shining like the Batman logo over Gotham
[03:41.83]Rock LA to Harlem
[03:44.49]If you say "get ’em Mike G" then I got ’em
[03:47.11]One man squadron, n*gga I’m a problem
[03:49.71]From Briggs I got bars and plans to
[03:51.86]Pimp these Polish b*tches into pop stars
[03:53.74]Humanity kills, we all suffer from insanity still
[03:56.58]And if I said it then it is or it’s gonna be real
[03:59.76]OF ’til I OD and I probably will, uh
[04:03.00]
[04:13.37]It’s still Mr. Smoke-a-lot-of-pot
[04:15.36]Get your baby mommy popped with my other snobby bop
[04:17.89]Do I love her, prolly not
[04:19.26]Know your sh*t is not as hot as anything I f*ckin’ drop
[04:22.09]B*tch I’m in the zone, stand alone, like Macaulay Cock
[04:24.71]I’ve been runnin’ blocks since a snotty tot
[04:27.41]Big wheel was a big deal with the water Glock
[04:30.18]Now I’m all grown, sing songs just to give ’em watts
[04:32.84]Fire what I talk, but still cooler than the otter pop
[04:35.64]Op Dom neck sh*t in your wish list
[04:38.34]Mad sick sh*t, mad d*ck for your b*tches
[04:40.92]On some slick sh*t, your mistress on my hit list
[04:43.73]And I’m lifted ’til I’m stiff out of this b*tch
[04:47.59]Odd in your motherf*ckin’ area
[04:49.25]Blood clots give me five feet ’fore I bury ya
[04:51.96]Suicide flow, let the big wave carry ya
[04:54.61]Tyler got the mask like he held Jim Carey up
[04:57.49]And f*ck your team, ho n*gga wassup
[05:00.31]Wolf Gang so you know we not givin’ no f*cks
[05:03.13]You know me dog, I’ma chill in the cut so I can
[05:05.93]Cut it short, break it down, couple pounds, roll it up
[05:08.41]
[05:14.82](Get me a Persian rug where the center looks like Galaga)
[05:18.81]
[05:19.45]Rent a super car for a day
[05:21.00]Drive around with your friends, smoke a gram of that haze
[05:23.74]Bro, easy on the ounce, that’s a lot for a day
[05:26.20]But just enough for a week, my n*gga what can I say
[05:29.02]I’m hi and I’m bye, wait I mean I’m straight
[05:32.13]I’ma get you this wine, the runner just brought the grapes
[05:34.68]My brother give it some time, Morris, and Day
[05:37.27]’Course you know the vibe’s as fly as the rhymes
[05:40.07]On the song, cut and you could sample the feel
[05:42.96]Headphone bleed, make this sh*t sound real
[05:45.73]Used to work the grill, fatburger and fries
[05:48.48]Then I made a mil and them psychics was liars
[05:51.12]Now, how many f*ckin’ crystal balls can I buy and own
[05:54.60]Humble old me had to flex for the fogs
[05:57.23]Down in Muscle Beach pumpin’ iron and bone
[05:59.96]Bumpin’ oldies off my cellular phone
[06:04.63]Yea, bumpin’ oldies off my cellular phone
[06:11.13]Bumpin’ oldies off my cellular phone
[06:13.60]
[06:15.56]Goddammit, this rapping is stupid and it’s hard
[06:19.35]Gotta do it over and over and over again but here I go
[06:24.76]Hey it’s Jasper, not even a rapper
[06:27.28]Only on this beat to make my racks grow faster
[06:30.06]Got a TV show, so I guess I’m an actor
[06:32.64]Pot head, half baked, lookin’ like Chappelle
[06:35.45]Rollin’ up a blunt with that fire from hell
[06:38.07]Still ignorant, still hit a b*tch
[06:40.77]Wolf Gang, n*gga, so I still don’t give a sh*t
[06:43.51]Catch me in the back with Miley on my lap
[06:46.18]Bong rips as I feel on that little b*tch cat
[06:48.99]Hah, n*gga came through with a 9 bar real quick
[06:52.90]Just for the b*tches, little bit of money in my pocket
[06:55.64]F*ck it, Wolf Gang
[06:57.41]
[06:59.96]Yeah, f*ck that
[07:08.79]Look, the contrast is a pair of lips
[07:11.27]Swallowin’ syrup and settin’ fires to sheriffs whip
[07:14.47]F*ckin’ all American terrorist
[07:16.56]Crushin’ rapper larynx to feed ’em a f*ckin’ carrot stick
[07:19.48]And me? I just spent a year Ferrisin’
[07:21.95]And lost a little sanity to show you what hysterics is
[07:24.55]Spit to the lips meet the bottom of a barrel
[07:27.33]So that sterile piss flow remind these n*ggas where embarrassed is
[07:30.51]Narrow, tight line, might impair him
[07:33.34]Since I made it back to Fahrenheit, grimey get dinero type
[07:36.06]Pharaoh f*ckin’ pillow tear wearin’ pack of parasite
[07:38.23]Threw his own youth off the roof after paradise
[07:40.97]Ladidadi back in here to f*ck the party up
[07:43.78]Raiding fridges, tipping over vases with a tommy gun
[07:46.51]Never dollars, pop would make it rain hockey pucks
[07:49.47]60 day chips from f*ckin’ awesome anonymous
[07:52.30]Call him bloated ’til he show them that the flow deluxe
[07:55.06]Off the wall loafers, four loko, and a cobra clutch
[07:57.58]Vocals bold and rough, evoke a ho’ to pose his drum
[08:00.82]Let me hit him, hit it with a stick until the ho was numb
[08:03.14]Culprit of the potent punch
[08:04.45]Scolding hot as dunking scrotum in a Folgers cup - or Nevada
[08:07.97]Driving drunk inside a stolen truck
[08:09.70]Sh*tting like his colon bust
[08:11.03]Belly full of chicken and a fifth of old petroleum
[08:13.88]Supernova, I’m rollin’ over the novices
[08:16.53]I’m roamin’ through the forest and spittin’ cold as the porridge is
[08:19.33]Stay gold ’til the case closed and the story end
[08:21.95]Post mortem porkin’ this rap sh*t and record it
[08:24.61]To escort it to the morgue again
[08:26.02]Lord of lips, bored of this
[08:27.39]Forklift the tippy top, best under 40 list
[08:30.19]Stormin’ the gate, who’s sure in the base, scorching ladies
[08:33.49]Motherf*ckers soarin’, torso and face
[08:35.24]Get at me with savages, have a pack of Apache
[08:38.05]Indian pack of n*ggas who don’t give a f*ck if we nasty as flatulence
[08:41.64]As a matter of fact, your swagger is tacky so see me you can’t
[08:44.38]Like crunchy black cats in a taxi
[08:46.26]Back like lateral passing
[08:49.10]With that motherf*cking gladiator manner of rapping
[08:51.74]As an addict I let percocets and xannies relax me
[08:54.88]Fall back if your paddies is Maxi
[08:56.78]Please
[08:57.77]
[09:09.22]OF, sh*t that’s all I got
[09:11.00]From my bigger brother Frankie to my little brother Tac
[09:14.06]From that father figure Clancy to that skatey n*gga Naks
[09:16.73]Shredding down ’Fax, Wolf Gang run the f*ckin’ block
[09:19.63]Storefront, knee tat
[09:21.45]Book cover is the same lettering on lettermans and cotton socks
[09:25.55]And grip tape... and my shoes
[09:28.61]Um, I was 15 when I first drew that donut
[09:32.73]5 years later, for our label yea we own it
[09:35.43]I started an empire, I ain’t even old enough
[09:38.35]To drink a f*ckin’ beer, I’m tipsy off this soda pop
[09:41.78]This is for the niggers in the suburbs
[09:43.69]And the white kids with n*gga friends who say the n-word
[09:46.51]And the ones that got called weird, fag, b*tch, nerd
[09:49.47]Cause you was into jazz, kitty cats, and Steven Spielberg
[09:53.23]They say we ain’t actin’ right
[09:54.90]Always try to turn our f*ckin’ color into black and white
[09:57.27]But they’ll never change ’em, never understand ’em
[10:00.07]Radical’s my anthem, turn my f*ckin’ amps up
[10:02.91]So instead of critiquing and b*tching, being mad as f*ck
[10:05.90]Just admit, not only are we talented, we’re rad as f*ck
[10:09.46]B*tches
[10:10.51]
[10:15.97]OFM, bangin’ on your FM
[10:21.05]Gnaw, 2011, yea
[10:30.55]Golf Wang
[10:31.20]
[10:32.41] ★ 竹韵 制作
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