Dinosaur - Intro

[Intro]
[Cough] One, two, gold, four...

[Verse 1]
One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish
Fuck going to parties I'm reading Doctor Seuss, shit
The Devil said I'm heaven sent, my fucking skills are evident
You're irrelevant, like us having a n***** president
Yo black people 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 lunch-able
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

Beliebteste Lieder von Tyler, The Creator

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