Tyler, The Creator – GELATO Lyrics

[Intro: Tyler, The Creator + Jaquees]
Let’s hope they don’t take this one down man
Ooh, mm, mhmm
Yeah
OG Parker

[Verse: Tyler, The Creator + Jaquees]
What’s the deal-o? Ain’t ‘gon lie, I’m feelin’ you
You got me on tippy toe, So who’s Oliv, who’s Elio?
It’s don’t matter, negative niggas gon’ say, this don’t add up
But fuck they math up, shit, we subtract ’em
Ayo, tell me whats the problem, I just pop models
Boy or girls these days, shit, it don’t matter
We can fuck Sunday cause I don’t read Bibles
But I’m faithful to this money and these Céline goggles
I don’t pop bottles, I just cop automobiles full throttle
New engine can’t follow, get a jet to Lake Como
We can try some new gelato, shawty, I’m forreal
Like my role model, hmm
So let’s—
Shawty, I listen
Unlike like my father, I can give you attention
You won’t feel empty like pocket that lint in
Pack a few bags I got space in my mansions (plural)
Hurry with decision
Cause I’m looking for a parrot and you looking like pigeon
Better That’s So Raven and get another vision
If you wanna be my newest edition like Bivins, woah

[Chorus: Jaquees]
Feel like you need some validation (Yeah, yeah)
I got a plan ’cause you’re more than that
No better situation, girl
No, no, you all for that, and I ‘magine that
Feel like you need some validation
While I’m grippin’, your waist, we move to your place
No better situation (come on)
Girl, I’ll be your escape, come and swing my way
You think niggas full of lies

[Outro: Tyler The Creator]
Yeah yeah, Golf Wang, Golf shit, shoutout Jaquees
Switch it up, picking up my car in hour, this view is beautiful

Tyler, The Creator – Tamale (feat. Tallulah) lyrics

[Verse 1: Tyler, the Creator]
They say I’ve calmed down since the last album
Well, lick my dick, how does that sound? (Umm)
Smell my gooch, you could kiss my buns
And I don’t give a shit, bend my rectum
Somebody said bands make her dance
You think you’re getting cash, no bitch, you’re dumb
The only thing that you’re gonna get is this dick
Wait turn this up, bitch, this my jam, (Where the drums at?)
Here, take a goddamn picture
And tell Spike Lee he’s a goddamn niggaare
And while you’re at it, pass the lotion
In fact, get an Xbox Live, that fun
Before I come, I’m calling your sister
When she comes over, I take picture
Instantly put it on Instagram and suplex her off a building [?]

[Hook: Tallulah and Tyler, the Creator]
Tamale! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!
Why y’all so salty,
Hot tamale is on,
A can of beans, bitch, I’m on,
Your boy is bad to the bone

[Verse 2: Tyler, the Creator]
Bring back the horns that was played in the beginning,
And tell Tony Parker that I found his vision,
And if he’s tripping off my sneak dissing
Then he has to deal with me and my minions
Tryna get a bimmer, E46
Have you heard 48, motherfucka I’m great
Golf Wang prints always cover the sleeves
From cuts from the beach, to these puff in the trees, please
Fuck I look like? Got a new bike tire
Never popped like the pussy on a bitch dyke
Think I give a fuck, I do, I go balls
And I bust in her jaw like (fuck that disease!)
My urethra, hole that I pee from
Bigger than an obese snack on Aretha
Now, turn that snare down
I’m back like I’m Rosa Parks fare on the same damn bus
Like “You’re going to jail now! ”

[Hook:]

[Verse 3: Tyler, the Creator]
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?
If a woodchuck could ever give a fuck?
Bitch Suck dick, Motherfuck you and your opinions, (Can you kick it?)
Yes I can sir, here the lump is
Sicker than the last bar bold-er
I’m a co fuck Michael bitch I’m badder than my B. O.
Find me and Lance tryna dance during chemo
Before they repossess our strong arm bands and tuxedos

[Hook 2: Tallulah and Tyler, the Creator]
Yeah Buddy, this is my jam, Na Na Na Na Na Na Na!
Golf Wang, Golf Wang, Go fuck You, Na Na Na Na Na Na!
Why y’all so salty,
Hot tamale is on,
A can of beans, bitch, I’m on,
Your boy is bad to the bone

[Verse 4: Tyler, the Creator]
How many fags can a lightbulb screw?
Well if I has a dick, maybe two and six, and tell the nra I’m
About to lose my shit, shoot through Wayne Lapierre’s hair with a crucifix
How many ladies in the house?
How many ladies in the house without a rich nigga, huh?
A little Jergins in my palm for the jerkin’
Hope my Mom don’t catch me, tryna set mood
Little Redtube, fuck lotion, I don’t need lube, dryfit suits me
Up and down, friction with the sound, shit’s kind of disgusting
Fap time and before I flatline, Clancy chimes in my room and catch me
This shit’s so damn embarrassing like…

Hodgy Beats – I’ll Be Good

[Intro Hook]
Part of the process
Mistakes are a part of the process
Mistakes are part of the process
And if you want what you need
What you need is just an object
Mistakes are part of the process
(A part of the process)
Mistakes are part of the process, heard me
Mistakes are a part of the process
Mistakes are part of the process

[Verse 1]
I could’ve went about a lot of things in different fucking ways
I should’ve but I didn’t
It’s crippling nigga, losing weight
I’m moving at an abusive pace
I’m due to race
When you pit-stopping the ones who help you, you screwed your face
You think I’m wanting to apologize well I’m not like shoes to lace
And what I do tomorrow depends on what’s due today
I’m fueling the wrong energy
Misusing hate and love
And I’m moving out on the move in date
Bruising emotions brutally
Cruising and coasting crucially
Boojie boasting, doobie smoking
Cloud from fumes and rooms of haze
Coochie open, I’ma stroke it then I’ma dip out to LA
Sipping lean and counting green
And recording until the room is vacant
When you’re [?] are never mistaken
Give somebody what they want and it’s never mistaken
I just pray my health is well like cartons when you shake it
And once the carton to my mind opens up, you’ll have to refrigerate it

[Pre-Hook]
They tell me "oooh, you need to slow down
Slow down, slow down your pace"
They tell me "oooh, you’re moving too fast
You need to slow down, slow down, slow down, slow down your pace"

[Hook]
Part of the process
Mistakes are a part of the process
Mistakes are part of the process
And if you want what you need
What you need is just an object
Mistakes are part of the process
(A part of the process)
Mistakes are part of the process, heard me
Mistakes are a part of the process
Mistakes are part of the process

[Verse 2]
No more bad trips, no more episodes
Drugs turn your mind into a vegetables
No more internet thuggish, bugging out in public
Man no more [?] songs
No more random pussy for me
I kicked the pedestal
And chilling with premature bitches I know that’ll never grow
X marks the spot to the treasure box in which the treasure holds
From anonymous to Allen I
From the Golf Wang store to Babylon
I got friends in comas from overdosing
I know homeless people with more hope then
Niggas that get punched in the chest
Welcoming them demons with their arms wide open, bogus
They disappear in the gallows of shadows where the ghost is
The plagues dying from AIDS
Magic Johnson hocus pocus
Bought a new wanda for my camera
Take a shot after I focus, them double exposures
I live in a house in the woods
I’m all alone, I’m an ogre
Hiking the marrow mountains, avalanche stumbling over

[Pre-Hook]
They tell me "oooh, you need to slow down
Slow down, slow down your pace"
They tell me "oooh, you’re moving too fast
You need to slow down, slow down, slow down, slow down your pace"

[Hook]
Part of the process
Mistakes are a part of the process
Mistakes are part of the process
And if you want what you need
What you need is just an object
Mistakes are part of the process
(A part of the process)
Mistakes are part of the process, heard me
Mistakes are a part of the process
Mistakes are part of the process

Common – Made In Black America (feat. Ab-Soul)

[Verse 1: Common]
Made in Black America, metaphor for a predator
Been to the Mediterranean, on my papers like a editor
I flow like a reservoir, dog
Rap Tarantino, off the chain like Django
Still let the chain glow, where they bang known
And niggas get shot like camera angles
In rap videos put up on Vimeo
I’m where the buck 50 bicentennial perennial all-star
Fruit that don’t fall far from Islam
When rap is dead, I had the fluid that embalmed
I speak, you know I’m in the building like an intercom
Enter Com, the world’s most…
Intricate, integrated with imminent
Domain, I’m feeling myself like a sentiment-
-tal letter written to myself, aspirin’ for greatness, wellness and wealth
I’m cold, I’m hard to melt
I’m more than a hot song, or a hot album
Ask my ex, I still live on like Malcolm
My spirit and style done a transformation
Make room, I don’t need reservations
You suite as a hotel, I stay presidential
Strange to be sinful and know that Heaven sent you
To rearrange the mental, I’ve seen things we’ve been through
It’s hard for a man to claim gentile, let me change the tempo
I be with broads that got they shit together
Even if it ain’t meant forever, still smoke the spliff together
The essence of the herbs, the presence of the words
Yeah you got a chest but I’m treasurin’ your curves
You walk past, I’ma look behind you
Look you up and down to find you
Can see I was designed to, give you power and refine you
You fucking with me we can grind to
Gather the better Black America

[Verse 2: Ab-Soul]
Made in Black America, takin’ threats from a terrorist
We will never meet but the media feed hysteria
And I be inferior, if I be in fear of ya
More godly than gluttonous but my supper’s superior
You know the difference ‘tween the kids with the lunch tickets
And the ones with the money, in the cafeteria
I break bread with with my brethren like a pizzeria
Spinnin’ dough, you’ll find red dots over cheese, be a-
-ware of your whereabouts, don’t be feeble
I’m pissed off, tinkle is the onomatopoeia
You’s just a little star (twinkle) sure ain’t me
Been a superstar since ma made me
My president is black
I wonder if Pac thought we was ready for that, or did we move too fast?
I don’t give a fuck, shit my grandpa glad
They pass that gun law or not, niggas still gon’ pop up dead
Yeah, I’m the Morpheus in this hip-hop matrix, exposin’ fake shit
Used to borrow dollars, now my sense ain’t so common
Went across the whole nation screamin’ Hiiipower
Never been a racist, but I love horsepower, I’m hot
That’s why I got the fans in the stands
Em fans googlin’, enemies shakin’ hands
Restorin’ the balance, detourin’ the malice
We kill you motherfuckin’ mice with a mallet
This is Huey P Newton with a QP
Bobby with a Seale, Fred Hampton on pills
In the Hamptons, now that’s real, what’s happenin’?
I’m just trying to teach my homies ’bout the Emerald tablets
Stop the war in Syria over a bowl of cereal
Kill a instrumental then book a flight on Expedia
To the nation’s capital, Golf Wang radical
Black lip pastor, tip the usher when he pass yah
Welcome to Black America