[Tyler, The Creator:] I might just add a verse for no reason, fuck it Ayo
I shit in my garden and play Stevie Wonder And get foot massages while Clancy talk numbers He threw me some game and I swear I won’t fumble Might cop me a Bronco to ride for the summer Marni the trousers, tell Risso to holla The carnival sell out, the stadium Dodger I cut off some homies, but Taco my brodie Until he score millions, I won’t leave the goalie Might pass ’em the mittens, he never betrayed me The E30 sitting, the 675LT my daily The engine is stupid, I drive like a tutor When I move, it moves, the transmission like Luda Now ketchup like packets, my new nigga pretty Your new bitch is tacky like Busta Rhymes jackets Want smoke? I can match it, the second-hand action We exhale you inhale and asthma attack Teeing off, niggas nauseous As fuck, fuck you thought? Bitch, it’s GOLF
[Lil Baby:] Brand new whip got no keys Tailor my clothes, no starch, please Soon as I nut, you can gon’ leave Got M’s in the bank, like: “Yes, indeed”
[Tyler, The Creator:] This shit going crazy, I swear I go crazy I never met him but man shout out Lil Baby We running the thing [*gibberish*] I just ran out of words